An Illusion of Truth
by Rogue Tomato
Summary: The reality of his past decisions had caught up to him, and he was no longer the only one drowning in the consequences... When Stan goes missing and Rachel asks Danny and Five-0 for help, the case takes a turn no one expected.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I want to quickly thank sockie1000 and Cokie316 for their beta abilities, of course, but also their unending support and patience. Ladies… thank you._

_Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the following story. All creative rights to the characters belong to CBS Productions and those responsible for its creation._

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**This story takes place in season two, sometime after "Mai Ka Wa Kahiko" but before "Ha_ʻ__alele"._**

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It was early morning when Stan woke up; a hazy gleam of daylight streaming through the miniature crack in the wall of his room offering him the only glimpse into the passage of time. How many times had he screamed through that hole? How many times had he strained his right eye against the rough, cold surface… frantic to see anything outside of his prison? His left eye, though healing, still bore the evidence of the livid bruising and swelling he'd worn for the past several days. He was thankful for the small miracle of being able to see through it this morning.

Being able to see more clearly, however, wasn't something to celebrate. It simply gave him better clarity in which to assess his situation.

Not wanting to alert anyone that he was awake, he kept his body still as he moved his gaze down his body and onto the bed he was lying on. Bed was a term Stan used loosely to describe the cheap, worn-out cot shoved into the corner of the room. For the first few days of his "stay" here, he'd suffered through more beatings than any man should ever be forced to endure in a lifetime. But even during the nights, when he was finally left alone, he was allowed no reprieve for his battered body. The thin mattress provided no semblance of comfort or rest that Stan desperately longed for, only adding back and neck pain to his laundry list of injuries. Still, Stan mused, it was better than the floor, and he abruptly clung to the metal frame as though his captor had read his thoughts and was coming in to take the bed away from him.

He nearly laughed at the absurdity, yet didn't release his grip. He'd been kept locked inside the small room for so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to sleep soundly through the night and wake up in the morning, feeling refreshed. Simple things he had once possessed – a real bed, a change of clothing, a toilet, a glass of water – seemed like luxuries now.

Comfort did not exist in such a place as this.

This cot felt like a tether to a previous life… a life that he only dreamt about now during the hours of darkness that found him curled up and around himself, begging for exhaustion to pull him under. And when it finally did, only then did he allow himself to dwell on what he used to have. Among them, a king-sized bed with a hand-carved headboard. The clothes he wore now (a thin t-shirt and boxers… only part of what he'd been wearing when he'd first arrived) hardly mirrored the comfortable attire he had grown accustomed to in his life. At home, his walk-in closet had been the envy of many, filled with suits from Brioni, Alexander Amosu, Armani and Gucci.

Not that he ever bragged about what he owned. No, Stan knew that he had worked hard for everything that he possessed. He'd gone to college. Netted a prestigious internship with BB&T, and eventually moved to New York to work his way up through the corporate world of finance and real estate. It hadn't been easy, but he'd accomplished everything he'd ever dreamed he could. Nothing seemed out of reach.

Did he have to apologize for missing his four-poster bed? His morning cup of coffee? Running water? A blanket? Plumbing? His dignity?

Was it only four days ago that he had possessed all of those things?

Four days… four days ago, he'd been assaulted, kidnapped, and thrown into this small room. With nothing to look at but bare concrete walls and a concrete floor, his first few hours in this hell-hole had been spent nursing his swollen left eye and contemplating why he'd been so forcefully taken. What had particularly nagged at him was the fact that he personally knew his abductor. Though the two of them had never gotten along, Stan never considered the other man to be violent. At least, not to this extent. Threats had been made, on both sides, but certainly not a threat of this magnitude. Right? Stan's injuries and general disorientation due to his debilitating fear and panic had made his memory sluggish and putting together the pieces of their recent history was difficult.

He supposed none of it really mattered now anyway. The fact was that someone who'd Stan held in such little regard not long ago now had complete and total control of his life. That simple fact had been pounded into Stan with each punch and kick that he'd endured.

Stan hadn't moved since waking, his body still on its side and facing away from the door. He figured it was only a matter of time before his captor realized that he was awake and would return. It wasn't fear of what would happen to him that kept him rooted in place. It was fear for the one who was now sharing the cell with him. Stan finally released his grip on the cot's frame. His fingers began moving methodically as he picked at his nails, desperate to get them clean, as he reflected on the previous day.

For most of yesterday, he'd remained relatively alone, and he'd thought that he'd finally been left for dead. Thoughts of death had permeated every waking moment as Stan sat on his cot and waited. Waited for morning to dawn again on another day while trapped in this room. Waited for death to finally claim him. He mused over how he would eventually go. Would it be starvation? Maybe blood loss? There were afternoons that were so hot, he thought he'd die from heat stroke. He absently wondered which would be the least painful. He wondered how long it would take for someone… anyone… to find him. Would his body even be identifiable? How would Rachel handle it?

_Rachel…_

His chest tightened at the thought of his wife, and he almost rolled over to look at the motionless body he assumed was still on the floor next to his cot. Memories and thoughts of her had kept Stan going those first few days. He'd envision her in one of her long sundresses. Her hair would be pulled back into a loose ponytail, just how he loved it. She'd be smiling at him. In his dreams, she was always happy.

But then, as the hours dragged on, it only became more and more painful to think of her, and Stan forced himself to think of anything _but_ her. But last night, that became impossible when the steel door was opened and his captor had returned with a "gift" for Stan. Two gifts, Stan slowly remembered, as he looked at the photos piled at the foot of the bed.

The reality of his past decisions had caught up to him, and he was no longer the only one drowning in the consequences.

Blinking away his dark thoughts, Stan slowly forced himself to roll over onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he took a few steady breaths before pushing himself up and swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. Though he tried to fight it, his eyes instantly flicked over to the body lying still on the floor. Stan's gaze held steadily onto the shallow rise and fall of the individual's chest, feeling guilty about the small feeling of relief swelling within him. He should not be pleased that he was no longer alone. He should be feeling horrible. Ashamed. Angry with himself that he and he alone was responsible for another person's suffering.

And not just _any_ other person, but…

"Stanley."

Stan automatically looked up in response to his name, and he was surprised that the other man was so close to him. For a moment, expressionless blue eyes met his, and then he lifted an arm up and rested it on Stan's shoulder. He immediately flinched at the small contact.

"Shall we begin?"

Fear closed off Stan's throat, and he tried to push down the anxiety filling his body. Just that tiny movement of his body tensing under the small contact caused every muscle to ache, reminding Stan that twenty-four hours of relatively little abuse wasn't nearly enough to hide the fact that his body had been pounded into excruciating rawness. Stan brought his hands together in front of him, rubbing them nervously as he absently tried to wipe away the evidence of what he had done the night before.

His head began to shake, and he swallowed with some difficulty. "No." He wished his voice didn't sound so pathetic, but the fact that he'd been able to speak at all after these long days was an accomplishment.

The hand on Stan's shoulder tightened, causing Stan to close his eyes. Hadn't he learned by now that saying anything contradictory was a bad idea? Waiting for the attack he was sure was coming, Stan hung his head low, his chin resting against his chest. But nothing happened before the weight on his shoulder was lifted and he heard his captor moving away from him. Risking a glance upward, he locked eyes with the man and was rewarded with a thin smile.

"Maybe you're right, Stanley. Maybe you've had enough?" He paused, cocking his head to the right slightly and raising a single eyebrow. "Perhaps you think you've been punished enough for what you've done to me?"

Stan didn't dare speak as he broke eye contact. The steel door to the room had been left open… a rare negligent move on his kidnapper's part. But Stan knew that even if he had the stamina to rush him and make a break for it, he wouldn't get very far. And he couldn't leave… no, he couldn't try to escape knowing that he'd be leaving someone behind.

"What about your wife?" Stan's eyes snapped back as the man moved in closer to the body on the floor, nudging it slightly with the tip of his steel-toed boot. The unconscious figure didn't stir. "Hmm? How do you think she feels, knowing what you've done? Because I'm sure she's figured it out by now. Will she think that you've been punished enough?"

Stan's gaze danced between the body on the floor and his own hands. Exhaustion, pain and being faced with the reality of his impending death had left Stan emotionally brittle, and he didn't trust himself to open his mouth again.

"You know what I think?" he continued, the voice deadly and low. Stan's jaw clenched tightly as the distance between the two of them was closed in one, swift move. Stan could feel hot breath washing over his skin as the other man bent low, his mouth inches away from the side of his face. "I don't think she'd be satisfied. And neither am I."

Just as quickly and quietly as he'd entered the room, he exited. Stan shakily let out the breath he'd been holding and clenched his hands into fists. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to stop shaking and eventually his breathing evened out. The brief encounter had left him exhausted and, with one last look at the body on the ground, Stan pulled his legs back up onto the cot and wrapped his arms tightly around them. His body protested against the movement, but he paid no attention to it, instead focusing his attention again on his hands. He rubbed lightly at first, but before long, he was scrubbing them so harshly that they stung with the friction.

Stan looked down again at the figure on the floor as dried flakes drifted off his hands and fell soundlessly to the ground. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He couldn't go back in time and change the past. No amount of staring at the body on the floor would will that person away. He couldn't stop the rubbing, yet he knew that his hands would never be clean. He couldn't take back what he'd done last night.

Looking for a distraction, Stan reached over and picked up the photos, eyeing them slowly. One by one. Caressing one photo. Gripping the next one tightly. He was so focused on the details of each that he almost missed the figure on the floor stirring, and he froze as pain-filled eyelids fluttered open. Stan waited, but then couldn't contain the guilt any longer.

"I'm so, so sorry."

Another few moments passed before those eyes glanced up at him. Bored into him. Accused him.

_This is all your fault._

Even if the words were not spoken, Stan heard them. He shut his eyes against the world as he silently agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you for all of the alerts and reviews!  
_

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**Five Days Earlier…**

"Where were you last night?"

"Hmm?" Danny glanced up distractedly to see his partner looming in the doorway to his office.

"Poker? Last night? My place? This ringing any bells?" Steve prompted, crossing his arms with a flourish. "You never showed."

Danny waved a dismissive hand at Steve before turning his attention back to the piles of mind-numbing paperwork on his desk. "Sorry. I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"Yup. Forgot." There was no response, so Danny continued scribbling his signature to the cover pages of each of his reports. A soft sigh from the doorway once again pulled his attention upward to see Steve still standing in the doorway, a scowl on his face. "What?"

"Where were you last night?"

Danny blew air out of pursed lips before making a show of putting his pen down on his desk. "Here. I was here. Then, I went home, grabbed a bite, and fell asleep. It was a long week. I was tired."

Steve quirked an eyebrow as if disagreeing with Danny's excuse. "I know it was a long week, Danny. I worked it too. Chin and I managed to stay awake for some cards."

"If you were so desperate to play, you should have called Kono."

"We did."

Danny smiled. "She clean you out?"

"Completely."

Danny's smile grew. The team learned early on that Kono was deadly at poker. Danny had lost more than a few bucks to the young rookie, and he could only imagine Steve and Chin's dismay at having to ask her to sub for him.

Steve regarded his partner a moment. Though Danny had insisted he'd gone home to sleep, his appearance declared otherwise. His eyes were slightly sunken and darker than normal, and his usual immaculately styled hair was a bit disheveled. And if Steve wasn't mistaken, Danny was wearing the dark-blue shirt that he usually kept in the bottom drawer of his desk for those few times the team has been stuck working on a case through the night. It appeared as though Danny hadn't even gone home last night. Steve smiled.

"Look, if you'd wanted to spend time with Gabby, you could have just told me so."

Danny rolled his eyes and reached again for his pen, determined to finish the piles of paperwork on his desk before noon.

"Drop it," he grumbled.

Steve's interpretation of _dropping it_ was walking into Danny's office and settling down on the chair directly across from him, crossing one leg over the knee of his other and getting rather comfortable. Danny attempted to ignore him, a feat that was impossible when Steve started bouncing his raised foot, causing it to tap repeatedly against the desk. If that wasn't enough, Steve began poking at items on his desk… his photo of Grace, the lamp, his empty coffee mug…

"Where's your mug?"

"What?"

"Your coffee mug," Steve clarified.

Danny didn't even bother to look up, merely pointing at the white porcelain cup now in Steve's hands. Steve, for his part, eyed the mug as if it was a hostile force invading Danny's desk… a force that he wished to dispose of immediately.

"This is not your mug. Where's the one I got you for your birthday?"

"I lost it."

"You lost it?" Steve repeated skeptically. "Or you '_lost'_ it."

"If you don't get out of my office right now, I am _really_ going to _lose it_."

Danny threw one more glare toward Steve, but movement over his partner's shoulder grabbed his attention. Danny slowly stood to see Rachel standing in the entryway of Five-0's headquarters; one hand propping the glass door open while the other was resting on the handle of a navy blue stroller.

Their time together lately had been brief; no more than muted instructions on when and where to pick up Grace and what time to have her back home. Neither of them ever addressed the elephants that hovered over them whenever they were forced into some kind of awkward conversation while waiting for Grace to pack up her things or if they ran into each other at one of her school functions. And why should they? There was too much to talk about, but no hope of, ever resolving anything.

_How does one get past a failed marriage, a re-kindled romance, losing a child that wasn't even yours to begin with, and the fact that you shot her new husband?_

You don't. You don't get past it. You ignore it. Or try to, anyway. But Danny was finding that hard to do when his ex-wife was staring at him like that. It was that look of pity mixed with justifiable anger and just a dash of love that blended into the perfect combination that drove Danny crazy. But it was the look that she carried each time they encountered one another, so one would think that he'd gotten used to it by now.

No such luck.

He couldn't explain why he found himself rooted to the spot when he saw her here. Why was she here, in the one place that he could normally count on to avoid her? Now even his own office was no longer sacred? She had to torment him here, with her look of unwanted duplicity, and her son, that was undoubtedly so perfect that he hadn't even uttered a sound to allow his mother her stealthy entrance, and _why was he so angry?_

An awkward silence hovered for an eternity before Steve cleared his throat, stood up, and moved toward the door.

"Hey, Rachel," he said in his most casual voice as he threw a '_what's the matter with you?' _look to Danny, who was still standing motionless in relative safety behind his desk. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"Um, yes. I was actually hoping to speak to Daniel." She looked imploringly over to Danny. He managed to raise a single eyebrow at her, but didn't budge. "In private."

Danny waved her in and she smiled gratefully at Steve as he held the door open for her. After getting settled in a chair, Danny sat behind his desk and regarded his ex-wife carefully. She looked tired as she nervously fiddled with the large rock on her ring finger. Danny suddenly felt a surge of fear well up within him.

"Is everything okay? Where's Grace?"

She looked up with watery eyes and smiled. "Grace is fine. She's in school. I'm… I'm here… it's just that…." Rachel sighed as she stumbled over the right words. "It's Stanley. He's… he didn't come home last night."

"Oh?" Danny was happy that his voice hid the relief that washed over him. Rachel's demeanor exuded worry and fear, and the fact that his little girl was safe and sound settled Danny's racing heart. "Is that unusual for Stan?"

Rachel noncommittally shrugged.

"Rachel, I'm assuming you came here for my help. If that's the case, you need to tell me. Is it unusual for Stan to not come home?"

"He works late sometimes and he'll end up staying overnight in his office instead of coming home. And of course his many trips abroad keep him away from home on occasion, but this is different. He told me he'd be home in time for dinner, but he didn't show. I thought maybe it was because he and I had a… disagreement earlier in the day. I thought maybe he was still mad and decided to stay in the office again. But when I called, they told me he'd already left."

Rachel stopped to grab a tissue out of her purse. Though she had struggled to begin telling Danny about her problem, she was really on a roll now, her words coming quickly as she rambled.

"He wouldn't answer his cell phone last night and he's still not answering today. I know that he and I have had some… difficulties lately, but he's never ignored me. Not like this. I'm just… worried about him."

"Well, Rach, I don't know what to say. If you guys had a fight, maybe he just needed to cool his heels. Maybe he got drunk and slept it off someplace, like Tahiti or Indonesia or wherever else he likes to jet off to all the time."

"Honestly, Daniel!" Rachel stood so quickly that she bumped into the handle of the stroller, causing it to jerk forward. Charlie, who had been soundly asleep up until that point, began to cry and she swooped down and picked him up, softly soothing him as she bounced lightly in place. "I came here to ask for your help, not to hear your petty opinions about my husband. Do you think I enjoy admitting that my husband is not taking my calls, potentially because we had a spat? Especially to you? HPD already said they couldn't do anything, I don't need to hear it from…"

"Wait, wait," Danny interrupted, putting his hands out to wave off her rant. "You already went to HPD about this?

"Yes. Before I came here. They said that I could not file a missing persons report until a 'reasonable amount of time' has past. What in the bloody hell does that mean?"

Rachel was near hysterics now, and with Charlie not handling the sudden rise in his mother's voice very well, Danny's office was quickly turning into a chaotic mess. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve in his office, staring anxiously in Danny's direction. Stepping quickly around his desk, Danny tentatively reached out and placed a hand on Rachel's arm.

"Okay, okay, just… calm down. I'll see what I can do, alright?"

Rachel sniffed and nodded, cradling Charlie close to her chest. After a few more minutes of gathering what information he could from Rachel, Danny ushered her out, promising to be in touch with her as soon as he found out anything. Once she was out the door and out of sight, Danny rubbed his face with both hands before motioning to Steve that it was safe to come out.

"Hey, everything okay?"

"Yeah, uh… listen, can you do a trace on Stan's phone? See if it's on?"

"Sure, partner." Danny recited the number to Steve as he activated the trace program on the central workstation. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"It's probably nothing," Danny admitted. "Stan didn't come home last night and Rachel is worried that something dark and sinister has happened to him. HPD isn't doing anything about it because he's a grown man and can take care of himself. So now here I am, using time and resources to track down my ex-wife's husband, who is probably passed out drunk at the penthouse in the Hilton."

Steve looked up from the trace program to address his friend. "You really think Stan would do something like that?"

Danny sighed heavily. "I have no idea. What have you got?"

"Well, the phone is on," Steve reported, flicking the map from the console up to the main screen. A single red dot blinked ominously near the western shore of the island. "He's not moving, but GPS shows him in Wai'anae." When Danny didn't say anything, Steve asked, "You want to go check it out?"

"No." He paused. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

The ride to Wai'anae was uneventful. The silence was broken every few minutes by a few choice words from Danny regarding just how he felt about tracking down Stan, but Steve let him rant. He knew that the strange relationship that Danny had with his ex-wife and her husband was awkward at the best of times, and that wasn't even taking recent events into account.

Rachel and Grace had left Stan and Hawaii behind when she believed that the baby she carried belonged to Danny, only to return to both once it was discovered she was farther along than she thought. If that wasn't enough, Danny had volunteered to help deliver said baby when Rachel went into labor and Stan was out of town. Though he had insisted that he was okay with the situation, Steve knew otherwise. The final nail in the coffin was when Grace had been kidnapped, and Danny had been forced to shoot Stan to save his little girl. The resulting fall-out was subdued when Stan refused to press charges, understanding that Danny was only doing what he thought was best, given the circumstances. But the tension remained. The strain of all that had happened over the past several months never truly went away.

And now they were venturing out to find him because, in Steve's opinion, Danny could never say no to Rachel. Nothing of what he knew of their past together gave Steve any reason to think otherwise. Steve wondered how long it would take for Danny to truly let go of his wife. Would he ever?

"There."

Steve slowed as Danny pointed out the windshield. They pulled to a stop at the side of the road, right behind Stan's parked Mercedes. Steve cut the engine and he and Danny climbed out of the Camaro. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as they made their way toward the other car, but Steve scanned the area to be sure. It wasn't a particularly bad part of Oahu, but it was not a place he would expect to find a wealthy businessman.

"Empty." Danny reported from the driver's side. "But his phone's inside."

Steve bent at the waist to peer into the passenger's side window. Nestled on the floorboard near the brake was Stan's phone, as well as what appeared to be his wallet and a pair of sunglasses. Steve tried the handle and was surprised to find the door unlocked. Danny followed suit opposite him and soon they were peering at one another through the interior of the car.

"Shit," Danny swore as he stood and pulled out his cell phone.

"Yeah," Steve agreed as he took in the dried spattering of blood within Stan's car. "This just became a crime scene."

* * *

It didn't take long for HPD's crime scene unit to diverge on the scene and begin processing the evidence. Kono and Chin joined up with Danny and Steve as they oversaw the work being done and began to piece together a timeline for Stan's disappearance.

"According to his secretary, Stan was still in the office when she left at six thirty yesterday," Kono reported. "She said that there was nothing on his calendar for the evening, and that as far as she knew, he was the last person in the office."

"Okay, so he works late, gets in his car, and drives here," Steve stated as he pointed toward the car now swarmed with CSU's technicians. "But he and Rachel live in Kahala."

"Yeah, this definitely isn't on his way home," Chin pointed out.

"So why come this way?" Kono asked.

"Maybe to pick up some dinner?"

"Here? It's in the opposite direction of his house. Besides, I can't see him eating at Faith's Place or Hello Sushi, can you?"

"You're probably right. A business meeting?"

"A _different_ kind of meeting?" Kono insinuated.

As the two cousins tossed around ideas, Steve looked over to his partner, suddenly noticing his absence. Danny stood a short distance away, looking vaguely out toward the direction of Stan's car. By this point in the process, it wasn't unusual for Danny to throw in his own theories on the reasoning behind a victim's disappearance or a hypothesis or two about a person's deviant behavior. But Steve understood that this was different. The victim in this case wasn't an unknown. For Danny, this was personal.

"Are you suggesting he was having an affair?" Danny asked as he reappeared by Steve's side, finally inserting himself into the conversation.

"No, Danny, I just…" Kono blushed, but Danny waved her off.

"Don't worry about it. You're right. There could be any number of reasons why Stan came out here. Let's check his phone records in his office and on his cell. See if he received any calls before leaving." Kono nodded and headed out as Danny turned toward Chin. "Chin, can you…"

"Get access to his e-mails and office calendar? I'm on it."

Danny managed a small smile as Chin jogged away to catch up with Kono.

"Look, uh… Steve, can you look into someone for me?" Steve nodded, and Danny continued. "His name is Bruce Hoffman. He's a housing commissioner that Stan has a history with. He might be worth checking out."

"Of course."

Danny crossed his arms again, and walked slowly toward the crime scene. Steve walked beside him before placing a hand on Danny's shoulder. "You alright, man?"

Danny stopped and rubbed his face with both his hands. "Yeah," he sighed. "Just not looking forward to the phone call I have to make right now."

* * *

Hours went by and evening crept up on the Five-0 team faster than they expected, each of them already feeling the stress that only a case like this could bring on. Rachel had taken it upon herself to spend as many hours as she could within Five-0's headquarters, having sent Grace to a friend's for the night, leaving Danny more on edge with each passing moment. The team did what they could to investigate, all while keeping her in the loop with as minimal details as possible. But like Danny, she proved that she was a force to be reckoned with, and ultimately was kept up to date on the search for her husband.

Currently the team found themselves huddled around the central workstation while Rachel sat in Danny's office to feed Charlie.

They'd already gone over Stan's financials, both personal and business. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though Danny's face visibly paled at finding out just how much the Edwards family home was worth.

"I hate to say it boss, but we've got nothing," Kono solemnly stated, hitching her hip up on the edge of the table. "Outside of the blood in Stan's car, there's nothing to point at him being forcibly taken. His wallet was full of cash and his cards. No odd phone calls coming in or going out."

"Nothing out of the ordinary in his personal e-mails, but I'm still wading through his business account. According to his calendar, he was free for the evening. His key card was used at 7:20 p.m. last night, logging the time he left the building," Chin reported. "His GPS shows that he left the Platinum Coast Development office parking garage at 7:34 and took a direct route to where you found the car parked, arriving at 8:50. That leaves us with a little under twelve hours unaccounted for from when we found his car this morning."

"And still no reason for him to be there," Steve concluded. "Danny, does Rachel have any ideas?"

Danny showed no reaction to the question at first, and Steve studied his partner closely. He'd been unusually quiet and reserved all day; his usual boisterous and animated attitude all but disappeared the moment Stan's car had been found empty. If possible, Danny looked even more exhausted than he had this morning.

Steve gently prompted Danny again, and he finally turned toward the group, stumbling to put an answer together. More uncharacteristic behavior. Danny, usually an unending plethora of words, was actually struggling to form a coherent sentence. Steve brushed it off to the stress of the day. More than anyone, he'd had to handle the onslaught of Rachel's questions and demands for answers.

And over and over, Danny had to reassure his ex-wife that he would bring her husband home.

"She, uh… she can't think of any reason for him to be there," Danny finally reported, immediately turning his gaze back toward his office, where he'd been spending the better part of the last hour staring.

Steve shared a quick, worried glance with both Chin and Kono before Kono's phone rang.

"What about Hoffman?" Chin asked Steve as Kono stepped away to answer her phone.

"I spoke with him today, and he was quite vocal that he doesn't know anything about Stan. I don't know what you did to him, Danny, but you made quite the impression. He had a few choice words to say about you."

He smiled, but there was no reaction from Danny… at all. He still had that far-off look that Steve couldn't figure out. He'd already suggested that HPD take over this case, but Danny was adamant that Five-0 keep it. Whether it was from residual feelings for Rachel, or a resilient sense of justice, Steve couldn't say for sure. But being on this case was already taking its toll on his partner.

"I still have to check out Hoffman's alibi, but it seems pretty rock solid," Steve dully finished. "Nothing in his financials to indicate that he hired anyone, either."

Still no movement from Danny. Steve walked toward him, though he wasn't quite sure what to say. Words of comfort? It wasn't like Danny was exactly mourning the absence of Stan. But the hollow look of pain and loss was evident in Danny's eyes every time he looked at his ex-wife. How does one deal with the fact that the woman you once loved (still loved, Steve questioned…) is worrying herself sick over the man she currently loves?

Apparently just like this.

Steve was about to say something to him when the sound of Kono's hasty return caused both partners to turn toward her.

"That was Fong," she started nervously. "The lab found several partials inside the car. Most were Stan's, obviously. Others they matched to Rachel and Grace. But," she stalled, biting her lip a moment before continuing. "They got a hit on another print found on Stan's phone and wallet."

"That was fast," Chin said. "Who do they belong to?"

Another long pause before Kono looked at them again.

"Danny."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Praying for those who lost something very precious this morning. Hugging my kids very tightly today...  
**

**As a much less-important note, thank you everyone for your very kind reviews. I appreciate each and every one of them. On with the story…**

* * *

"_What is it you cops always say? Don't ignore the evidence?"_

Steve always figured that the keys to solving a case were simple when you broke it down into four easy steps. One: gather evidence. Two: determine motive. Three: calculate means and opportunity. Four: make an arrest.

Of course none of those were reassuring or simple when everything pointed to your partner, and best friend, as the chief suspect.

"_Okay. Alright, but let me ask you a question. Let's say IA accused me of skimming off a drug lord, and they showed you a stack of evidence that suggested I did it. Would you believe them?"_

**Evidence**_._ Danny's prints in Stan's car could easily be explained away, in Steve's opinion. Perhaps they had ridden together at some point. Or maybe Danny had helped Grace get into the car once when he dropped her off after a weekend together. But Danny's prints weren't just in the car. No, they were found on Stan's phone and wallet. Two places that Danny's prints had no reason to be, unless of course he'd removed them from the missing man and tossed them onto the passenger seat, as HPD had already speculated.

**Motive**_._ The DA could have a field day with nailing Danny with a motive. Hell, Steve could rattle off at least a dozen without batting an eye. Stan married Danny's wife. Stan moved Grace thousands of miles away. Stan was responsible for putting Grace in danger last year. Stan made Grace take tennis lessons. Stan had too large of a bed. Stan was taller. Stan was the reason that he and Rachel were no longer together. Stan made more money. Stan left Rachel alone too much. Stan probably ate pineapple.

Danny had already shot the other man once, and though he was being coerced by his former partner, and no charges had been filed against him at the time, it could certainly point to Danny's state of mind and disregard for Stan's well-being.

**Means and Opportunity**_._ There was no denying that Danny had the means to pull something like this off. Hell, every cop in every town had the means of abducting someone: it was called a standard-issue side-arm. It also didn't help that Danny didn't seem to have an alibi other than leaving the office the night before to go home and sleep, alone. If only he had shown up for poker that night. If only he'd called one of them to let them know where he was. If only…

Now they found themselves at step four. How did they get here?

"_Would you believe them?"_

"_No, I wouldn't."_

_"Why not?"_

After Kono's bombshell revelation, they had all stared at each other in muted shock for a few moments. Kono explained more details on what the lab had found, but all Steve could hear was a faint buzzing in his ears as he stared at his partner. Besides a slight paling of his face, Danny had hardly reacted at all. He just stared ahead with an odd look of resignation, as though he had expected something like this to happen.

Chin and Kono both jumped into action, vowing to find out who was obviously trying to frame their friend, before they both set out to go over the evidence again. Finally, Danny snapped out of it and looked over at Steve with exhausted eyes and he nodded, sending Steve his silent consent to do what had to be done.

They both knew that this case couldn't be handled by Five-0 alone; not anymore, with one of their own as the chief suspect. This had to be handled by the book, and if it looked like they were giving preferential treatment, or did anything that even hinted of a cover up, Danny would be in deeper water than he was right now. Charlie had done them a huge favor by calling Kono first, but it would only be a matter of time before his official report would make it to the desk of the Chief of Detectives at HPD, and Danny would be brought in for questioning, or even flat out arrested.

And so Steve had called HPD, and the officers sent to Five-0 headquarters made quick work of going through Danny's office inch by inch, rifling through his casework, requisitioning his laptop, and essentially treating Danny as they would any other suspect.

Steve couldn't help but have flashbacks to the previous year when he'd been framed for Governor Jameson's murder. But Steve was not about to let Danny suffer the same fate as he had.

Rachel was still there, of course, and the look that crossed her face the moment HPD arrived was impossible to name. Steve hadn't thought it possible, but she became more of an enigma to him. One minute she'd be proclaiming Danny's innocence, and the next she'd throw her ex-husband a doubtful and accusatory look. Eventually, she became such a hindrance that Steve insisted that she go home to be with Grace, and she left without another word for him or Danny.

It was late when they finally took Danny away. He hadn't said much, only asking Steve to watch after Rachel and Grace until this was all sorted out. There were no heated declarations of innocence. No grand hand gestures. Danny simply allowed himself to be led out of the building, and Steve let him go. There was time to take a breath… then another… before he got back to work.

Throughout the night, he, with Kono and Chin, dove into their own investigation into Stanley Edwards. They looked into his financial records, his phone records and his business dealings. They looked into his credit card activity, his travel itineraries and his family. When the team grew tired, they merely made another pot of coffee, vowing to not rest until they found something that would point to where Stan had disappeared to, and who had taken him.

It wasn't until 2:30 a.m., seven hours after Danny had gone with HPD, that they finally found something.

"Meet Ashleigh Whitworth," Chin announced as he slid his fingers along the workstation, putting a woman's photo up on the plasma. "She's the head of an organization called Oahu First – a political action group dedicated to defending Oahu's natural landscape and heritage." Steve eyed her image carefully as Chin continued. "Over the past three years, this group has had made things a bit difficult for Stan's company."

"Such as?"

"You name it, they've done it," Chin replied. "But, recently, they've started an intense writing campaign against Platinum Coast's newest hotel development on the North Shore. And you can probably guess who the main target of their aggression has been directed towards."

"Stan."

"He did seem to be the lucky recipient of most of the hate mail," Chin pointed out, expertly sending a dozen scanned images to the screen. "But, many of the other developers at the firm received communications from members of Oahu First as well."

"Were any of the letters threatening?" Kono asked.

"Not really," Chin said with a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. "They toed the line carefully. They know what they're doing."

"It's enough for me," Steve decided. "Bring her in."

"Uh, boss, it's 2:30," Kono pointed out. "And technically, this isn't our case anymore."

"Right." Steve rubbed two tired hands over his face after checking his watch. "Okay, let's call it a night. I'll get in touch with Duke at HPD. I want her here first thing in the morning."

In the end, Steve managed to convince HPD that Ashleigh Whitworth was a viable suspect and they agreed to bring her in for questioning. They did not agree, however, to release Danny in the meantime, nor to have the interview conducted at Five-0 headquarters, where Steve would be free to use his well-known, and oft-controversial, full immunity and means. But it was with immense satisfaction that Steve, flanked by Chin and Kono, watched two uniformed officers escort Mrs. Whitworth into an interrogation room at 9:00 the next morning.

"Go easy on her, boss," Kono quietly warned from his left.

"By the book," Chin agreed from his right. "For Danny."

Steve nodded. "For Danny."

* * *

Steve prowled the interrogation room, slowly circling around the small table in the center, and the blonde woman nervously strumming her fingers on the tabletop. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he produced several printouts and photos, laying them carefully out on the surface in front of her. She eyed them with a quirked eyebrow before glancing up at Steve with a fixed stare.

"What?"

Steve continued giving her the silent treatment as he resumed his pacing. Ashleigh Whitworth followed him with her gaze until he was behind her and she lost sight of him, forcing her to look back down at the evidence placed before her.

"What?" She calmly repeated her question. "Platinum Coast can't possibly be filing charges over these letters. We settled on that issue long ago."

Steve didn't move from his spot behind her and chose to say nothing in response. She sighed heavily and pushed around the letters and photos in front of her, trying her best to appear nonchalant and carefree. But Steve knew better, noticing the little things, like how she shifted around uncomfortably in her seat. How her left heel rapidly bobbed up and down, in and out of her high-heeled shoes. She was trying to hide it, but she was nervous. Steve smiled in satisfaction.

"Yes, my group is responsible for these letters. Yes, we are responsible for these _amazing_photos of our demonstrations at a few new local developments going up on Oahu, thanks to Platinum Coast Development. But like I said, I already sat down with representatives from that company, and we worked it out. Ages ago. So why is HPD involved?"

"I'm not with HPD," Steve whispered in her ear, and she jumped at his sudden proximity.

"Well, then, would you care to explain what it is I am doing here?"

Steve ignored her question, but placed a final picture on the table… this one of Stan… and began walking wide circles around her again.

"Do you know this man?"

She laughed nervously as she defensively crossed her arms on her chest and leaned back into the chair. Her left leg was fully bouncing up and down now as she waged a silent staring contest with Steve. Ashleigh finally looked down at the photo, nodding her head slightly.

"He works for Platinum Coast," she stated.

Steve stopped his pacing directly in front of the table, placing his hands on his hips.

"His name is Stanley Edwards." A nervous clearing of her throat. "We… met a few times." She fidgeted with her wedding ring. "He was the company's representative at our negotiations." A small smile quickly suppressed. "He can't possibly be filing charges against me."

Steve's only response was a small tilt of his head.

"He wouldn't!" Ashleigh confidently declared.

"He's not," Steve finally said. "He's missing."

"What?" the woman asked, her voice barely now a whisper.

"Went missing the night before last. And you know what I think? I think you and your group had something to do with it. You've lobbied to have Platinum Coast stop all of their developments on Oahu, but none of your hard work has paid off, has it?" Steve once again picked up his circling around her, getting some small satisfaction from her increasing discomfort. "All of your threats and protests didn't do anything, so you decided to take it to the next level and target the man responsible for those developments."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"No?"

"No!" Ashleigh shouted this time, looking down at Stan's picture again. "I would _never_ hurt him!"

"Why not?" Steve demanded.

"Because…" she faded a little, apparently uncertain if she could continue. Steve could see the moment that her self-preservation won out as she looked directly at him. "Because we were in love."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Wow! Lots of reviews for the last chapter, which makes me a happy lady. Thank you all so much! I'm rather humbled. This may be the last chapter I post until after Christmas, but we'll see on that. If it is, I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas. I hope your holiday is wonderful._

* * *

"Stan had an affair."

The pronouncement hung heavily in the air a moment before Danny let out a long, tired sigh. He sagged lower into the uncomfortable cot he'd been forced to call his bed the night before, though he had hardly slept. HPD had been kind enough to not immediately book him for Stan's abduction, giving him the benefit of dragging their heels and keeping him in holding for the time being. He was thankful for the small mercy, seeing how quickly his life was headed toward hell in a hand basket.

"When?"

"_When_? That's your first question? _When_?"

"Yes, Steven, when? When was he having this affair?"

Steve eyed Danny carefully before continuing. "According to the woman he was sleeping with, it was right around the time you…" Steve trailed off, giving Danny the chance to fill in the blank.

"When I what?"

"Dammit, Danny, are you going to make me say it?"

"Yes, I am!" Danny shouted. "Because me sitting in here for the past 18 hours has given me enormous insight into my life, but, unfortunately, it has not granted me the divine power of reading minds."

"When you were sleeping with Rachel," Steve answered, his own voice rising. "While you were having an affair with her-"

"Okay," Danny whispered.

"-he was having an affair with Ashleigh Whitworth, and-"

"I said okay!" Danny interrupted as he abruptly stood and began to pace around his holding cell. Taking a few calming breaths, he turned to look at his partner. "What else?"

"We've interviewed Ashleigh's husband, and he admitted to knowing about the affair for months. He has a criminal record. We can even prove that he's come into contact with Stan in the past. He has also sent threatening letters to Stan and his company regarding their recent real estate dealings on Oahu."

"Sounds like the perfect suspect."

"He is," Steve confirmed.

"So the reason I'm still in here is…?"

"He has an alibi."

"Ah," Danny nodded solemnly. "And his prints weren't found at the crime scene."

Hours after Ashleigh Whitworth's informative interrogation, and hours after Steve, Chin and Kono had interviewed her husband, Malachi, the cold hard fact that Danny's fingerprints were found on Stan's possessions could not be explained away.

Danny scrubbed his face again before lowering himself back down onto the cot. After a moment, Steve joined him.

"So what's next?"

"Our working theory is that it has to be someone within Oahu First's organization," Steve stated with a sigh. "We're going through their membership files now, coming up with some profiles. And we're re-examining the evidence. Kono is on her way right now to work with Charlie Fong at the lab. Chin should be finishing up at your place…"

"My place?" Danny asked, fixing his partner with a strong gaze.

"Just covering our bases, Danno, relax. He won't mess with the organized chaos you have going there." Danny harrumphed and turned his glare away from Steve. "He did mention that it looked as though you hadn't been at home much lately. No food in the fridge… no trash…"

"Yeah, so?"

"Have you been staying with Gabby a lot?"

Danny slowly turned his head to once again glare at Steve, as if daring him to continue. Steve only shrugged and arched his eyebrows, patiently waiting for his friend to answer. Instead, Danny closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm not discussing my love life with you in a jail cell."

"Danny…"

"No! Gabby has nothing to do with this!"

"Will you just calm down and listen to me a minute?" Steve pleaded, grabbing Danny's forearm and giving it a small squeeze. The contact seemed to settle his partner, if only minutely, but it was enough for Steve. "The day after Stan was taken… before Rachel came in… I noticed…"

"What?" Danny asked, the agitation still lacing his voice.

"You were wearing your back-up shirt. From your desk." Steve stated simply, watching his friend for a reaction. When he received none, he pressed on. "I need to know, Danny. Did you go home that night?"

Danny worked his jaw a moment as the silence dragged on. Steve felt a knot clench within him as each second ticked by without a response. Finally, Danny pulled his arm away from Steve's grasp and sighed heavily. Biting his bottom lip, he turned back toward Steve, glancing over his shoulder out of the cell, and then back to him again.

"I've been picking up on some..." Danny trailed off a moment, his hands moving vaguely in the space between them, but lacking their usual vitality, "some subtle signs that Stanley and Rachel may be looking into moving away from Hawaii."

"Moving where?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"How?"

"Well, I'm not sure, Steven, but I'm sure it would involve some boxes and an airplane."

Steve let the snarky statement fly by without comment. "How do you know that they're thinking of moving?"

"Because I'm a detective, Steven, it's what I do for a living."

"Dammit, Danny-"

"I was looking into Stan," Danny interrupted. "After Grace was… taken," his voice broke a little, but he continued. "Ever since I shot Stan, I was waiting for the other shoe to fall. I was waiting for that knock on my door and that petition for full custody to be thrown in my face. And when it didn't come, I started to get worried. Worried that they were building a case against me."

He paused a moment to gage Steve's reaction, but all he saw was a neutral face. He swallowed, readying himself to reveal the last piece of information which, if released to HPD, would be the final nail in his coffin.

"So, I started to build a case for myself. And I started looking into Stan. I dug into his financial records. I looked into his business dealings. I readied files and reports on that whole Hoffman fiasco last year…"

"And two nights ago?" Steve asked. "What were you doing then?"

A long pause.

"I was hacking into his cell phone call history."

"I'm sorry, did you say _hacking_?"

Danny only nodded, and Steve felt his mouth drop open and it was a few seconds before his jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Moments passed by agonizingly slow for Danny as he watched the emotions flicker across his partner's face. He'd expected Steve to react to the news that he had been digging into the life of Stanley Edwards for some time, but this was not exactly the reaction he had envisioned.

"Say something, would you?"

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because I knew how it would look!" Danny barked as the anger and frustration of his predicament returned. "I didn't tell you before," he continued, a little calmer now, "because it was none of your damn business. And then… when Stan went missing… well, I knew it wouldn't be good for my case. So I didn't say anything. I buried the files so deep on my computer, I doubt even Chin could find them."

"Danno," Steve chided, "what happens when HPD finds those files? Because eventually they will, and then-"

"I know, okay? Just…" Danny slammed his eyes shut and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I know."

Steve stared at him a moment, gnawing over what he'd just heard. This case was already on a downward spiral, and Danny certainly wasn't helping matters by lying about his whereabouts and concealing potential evidence. Steve knew Danny… _knew_ he had nothing to do with Stan's disappearance… but his faith in his friend mattered little at this point. What mattered now was getting Danny out of this mess, and finding the person responsible. He could be mad at his partner's stupidity later.

"You know, things were a whole lot simpler when I thought you were doing the walk of shame that morning," Steve admitted. Next to him, Danny snorted.

"I told you," he said, wearily, "I'm not discussing my love life with you."

"Why not?" Steve sulked with an attempt at some lightheartedness.

"Would you just get out and find Stanley so I can get the hell out of here?" Danny demanded as he gave Steve a giant shove off the cot.

Steve flashed a smile as he signaled for the guard to come open the cell. As it clicked shut behind him, Steve turned, suddenly serious, to address Danny one final time before he left.

"Danny… if Stan's found dead…"

"I know," he replied, and Steve suddenly noticed how deflated Danny appeared. His trademark gestures had been noticeably absent during Steve's visit, his hands mostly lying limp in his lap, signaling his fatigue and stress. The dark circles under his eyes were vivid against his pale skin, and Steve was certain Danny had gotten little, or no, sleep the previous night.

"It would just really help if you had an alibi for that night," Steve finally admitted.

"I wasn't with Gabby," Danny responded with another shake of his head. "She had a thing at the museum. I didn't go home. I stayed in the office. Alone."

"And you're sure no one saw you?"

"No one."

"Okay," Steve nodded. "We'll get you outta here, Danny."

* * *

"Since when does Danny know how to hack?" Chin asked, clearly surprised.

"He's been holding out on us, apparently. Or getting lessons from Toast. Either way, this isn't good for him."

Steve had gone back to Five-0 headquarters immediately having spoken with Danny; the conversation with his partner giving him even more determination to resolve this case as quickly as possible. There had been no word yet from Kono on any progress she and Charlie were making at the lab, and the former SEAL was beginning to think that there may be nothing else to uncover with the physical evidence. They were going to have to look beyond what they already knew. Something wasn't adding up right.

"While you were talking to Danny, I've gone through Oahu First's membership list and one name popped out." Chin's fingers flew across the smart table screen and an image popped up on the plasma. "Meet Robert Sundt. He's an accountant for Platinum Coast."

"Wait, he works for Stan's company _and_ is part of the group who is _against_the company?"

"Yeah," Chin confirmed. "Talk about a conflict of interest. Seems as though he's raked up quite a bit of online gambling debt, too. He owes over $18,000 in credit card charges. However," Chin paused to display more financial information, "his account got quite the boost last week. $25,000 was deposited three days before Stan went missing."

"Where'd the money come from?"

"Can't really say. It's tied to an off-shore bank account with no routing number."

Steve nodded as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. "We need to pick this guy up," he directed at Chin before answering his phone. A few moments later, he ended the call, a small feeling of hope beginning to manifest itself. "That was Kono. The lab has something for me. Find Sundt and bring him in."

"I already tried," Chin reported grimly. "I called his wife. Apparently, he's attending the Hawaii Conservation Alliance conference this week."

"That's the same conference Malachi Whitworth used as his alibi."

Chin nodded. "Coincidence?"

"Not sure how I feel about those," Steve remarked.

"Either way, it's by invitation only and the coordinators weren't too keen on giving me any information on Sundt's whereabouts, or his itinerary. And he's not answering his cell. I can work on getting a warrant, but this is all pretty circumstantial at the moment."

"Agreed. I have to get to the lab. In the meantime, I need you to pull up the video surveillance around headquarters. Find out if any of the cameras showing Danny leaving that night. We need to-"

"Excuse me, Commander McGarrett?"

Steve whirled around to see Rachel standing in the doorway. She appeared very worn and tired, the same worried expression etched on her face that he'd seen the previous day, and yet even more pronounced. She tentatively let the door close behind her as she sought out Steve's face for any hope that there had been a break in the case and that her husband had been found. Finding no such solace, she looked away a moment to compose herself, and then locked eyes with him once again.

"I know it's late, but I wanted to check. Has there been… anything?"

Steve walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a small comfort. "Not yet. But, I promise you Rachel, we're doing everything we can."

She sniffed and looked away again, nodding slightly.

"I know you are," she whispered. "It's just that, it's been nearly two days. I keep expecting a ransom call or something. And Grace… she's… she's just…"

Grace's feelings didn't have to be said out loud. Steve could only imagine what the small girl was going through, though he wasn't entirely sure how much Rachel had explained to her. But he knew not a day went by without Danny connecting with her somehow. She probably had a lot of questions.

"We'll find Stan, Mrs. Edwards," Chin spoke up, and Rachel looked at him with a thin smile.

"Thank you. I do appreciate…" Rachel's voice trailed off as she caught sight of the photo still plastered on the large screen. "Is that Robbie?"

"Do you know him?"

"Yes," she replied as she hastily dried her eyes. "He works in Stanley's office. He doesn't… wait, does he have something to do with his disappearance?"

"We're not sure," Chin confessed. "We haven't been in touch with him just yet, but…" Chin stopped, unsure how much he should reveal, so Steve stepped in.

"We hope he'll have some answers for us, Rachel."

"Of course," she nodded. "He uh… Robbie, I mean… he'll be at the Hawaiian Convention Center. There's a gala tomorrow evening that closes the conference he's attending. Or at least, I'm assuming he's attending. A lot of the Platinum Coast staff were to attend. Stan had an invitation. Tomorrow night, he and I were…"

Steve could see her beginning to lose her resolve, and again he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. He knew he was no good at comforting someone, as Danny had pointed out to him on several occasions, but he did his best. He knew Danny would want him to do what he could.

"Anyway, I guess we won't be going."

"Wait, you said Stan was supposed to attend the event tomorrow?" Steve asked, and Rachel nodded. "Do you still have the invitations?"

She nodded again. "Yes, why?"

Steve smiled. "I have an idea."

* * *

It was nearly 7:30 by the time Steve strolled purposefully through the lab to where Kono was standing next to Charlie, both of them huddled over a microscope and laptop. He couldn't believe another day had passed with Danny still at HPD and Stan still missing. He was tired and frustrated, but he knew he couldn't rest until real progress was made on the case.

"Kono, what have you got?"

"Hey, Steve," she greeted as he approached. "Look at this."

Steve bent over the microscope. Through the lens, it was clear he was looking at a set of prints left on Stan's cell phone. Danny's prints.

"Notice anything?"

Steve straightened, shaking his head. "Looks like a clean print."

Kono nodded. "A little too clean."

"What do you mean?"

From behind Kono, Charlie took over, calling up information on his laptop. "Upon further examination of the prints left behind on Mr. Edward's effects, we noticed something extremely odd. Each of the prints are in pristine condition. There is not one smudge, smear or partial print on any of the objects."

"That seems unlikely," Steve said skeptically.

"More like impossible," Charlie confirmed. "Not only that, but each of the prints came from Danny's right hand. Specifically, they came from his thumb and the fourth proximal finger."

"The ring finger," Kono clarified.

Steve began to see why they called him down here. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would Danny handle Stan's stuff with only his thumb and ring finger?"

"He wouldn't," Kono stated confidently. "Which means-"

"The prints were most likely planted," Steve finished for her, not stopping the grin forming on his face.

* * *

_The next morning…_

"Rise and shine, partner."

Danny rubbed his eyes and cracked them open to see Steve standing on the other side of his cell, looking far too happy, considering the circumstances.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"0630."

"What do you want?" he asked grumpily.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked. "You should be happier to see me!"

"Steven, unless you are here to bust me out of here, then you can just-" Danny trailed off as he noticed the smile on his partner's face grow even larger. Suddenly he felt wide awake and he quickly sat up on his cot. "Are you?"

Steve didn't have to answer as Sgt. Lukela stepped into view, unlocking the doors and swinging them open. Danny's whispered _thank you_ could barely be heard as he exited the room he'd called home for the past two nights as hastily as possible. Danny and Steve walked out together, stopping briefly to pick up Danny's personal effects, Steve explaining the previous day's events the entire time. While Danny wasn't in the clear just yet, the questionable fingerprints had cast just enough doubt to get him released into Five-0's custody. Danny said very little, but the relief on his face and in his body language was evident.

They stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the first rays of sunrise just peaking up over the horizon, and Danny smiled.

"So, what's first?"

"First? You're going home to rest. And take a shower," Steve said, making a face. "Besides, you've got a hot date tonight."

"I do?" Danny asked, looking up at Steve with skeptical eyes. "With who?"

Danny felt a presence behind him, and he turned slowly to see Rachel standing in the early morning sunlight.

"Me."


	6. Chapter 6

Danny relished the silence and solitude the shower offered him as he took his time under the hot stream. Water pressure was something too many people took for granted, he thought, as he let the jetting spray of water massage his back and neck. His string of mangy living arrangements had left little to be desired, and the simple things like shower heads that actually sprayed instead of dripped water were luxuries to Danny now. He had initially fought the idea of stepping away from the case to give himself some alone time, but those thoughts immediately flew out of his head the moment he stepped into the hotel room's oversized bathroom and saw the size of the shower.

He supposed a little time to clear his head wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Though he hadn't had much company while in the custody of HPD, he was always being watched and monitored and occasionally questioned. So the simple pleasure of having a few, uninterrupted minutes that he could call his own was something else he dared to never take for granted again.

He was happy, as much as this situation allowed him to be, of course. He was still coming off his high of having Grace leap into his arms when he surprised her after she got out of school earlier that day. He did his best to brush away her fears surrounding Stan's disappearance, but his little girl was smart. She did her best to put on a brave face, but Danny could see the worry in her eyes.

An hour after saying goodbye, Steve had all but insisted that Danny take some time to compose himself and get ready for the evening's affair. _Affair, _he snorted, before rolling his eyes at his own lame attempt at a joke.

It felt like days since Steve had arrived in holding to get Danny out, when in reality it had been nearly ten hours. While Danny's day had been spent catching himself up on the case, the rest of the team had been hard at work. Surveillance was set up in and around the Hawaii Conservation Conference, specifically around Robert Sundt. Though the convention center and management surrounding the event had been less than helpful, all it took was a threat of being charged with accessory to kidnapping to get them to loosen their restrictions.

Kono and Chin had been able to tail Sundt for most of the day, reporting in occasionally that though he seemed a bit nervous, there was nothing in his behavior that indicated he was hiding anything, let alone a body. While they rummaged through his hotel room suite, HPD officers investigated his home. Nothing incriminating turned up, but the team wasn't going to give up on their most promising suspect that easily.

Frustrations began to mount, however, and it wasn't long before it was suggested that they bring Sundt in for questioning. Danny smiled to himself when he remembered that it was Steve, of all people, who remained calm and kept the stress levels down to a minimum. They all wanted to find Stan and bring him home to Rachel, but dragging Sundt out from the conference was a very bold, and very public, move to make. Stan's disappearance had already made the news, and reporters were eager to bite at any sign that the case was breaking open. If Sundt was their guy, then they didn't want him spooked. A motive still needed to be determined, and until then, they had little hope in getting him to reveal where Stanley was.

Finally switching off the water, Danny dried quickly and, wrapping a towel around his waist, stepped out of the bathroom to find a garment bag draped carefully over a chair. Unzipping it, he found a crisp, black tuxedo inside.

"Fabulous," he mumbled.

"What?" a female voice called to him, and he whirled around to face her, his hand instinctively grabbing for the towel at his waist. "I have it on good authority that you look good in a tux."

"Gabby." His voice cracked a little at the sight of her. He'd thought of her often over these past few days, but had taken the coward's way out and avoided calling her. Their relationship was still so new, and though Danny was certain that they had something special together, he didn't want to burden her with this.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hi."

They stood in an odd silence for a moment before Gabby stepped forward, picking up the garment bag as she did. "Commander McGarrett called," she explained as she removed the tuxedo from the bag and spread it out on the table next to the chair. "I was worried about you," she continued, avoiding his eyes. "You hadn't called in a while, and then when the news mentioned the kidnapping, I knew you'd be busy."

"Gabby," he started softly, but she continued.

"I picked up the phone a few times to call you, but then got cold feet and hung up. I didn't know what to say to you, really... And finally when I did get the guts to call, the commander told me that you'd been taken by the police, and…"

"Gabby."

Danny reached out and took her fidgeting hands into hers, and only then did she look into his eyes. He could see the anxiety, worry and uncertainly in her eyes and without thinking, he pulled her into a tight hug. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and they held on to each other for a few moments before she pulled away, slightly embarrassed.

"I was worried about you," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I know we haven't been dating for long, but when you didn't call, I just-"

"You don't need to apologize," Danny interrupted. "I'm sorry for worrying you. This case… it's… well, it's a hard one. And it's one I need to focus on right now. I should have called you sooner."

She shook her head. "I don't know everything that's going on, but Commander McGarrett mentioned that you are going undercover tonight to try to find Mr. Edwards." Danny nodded, still keeping her close to him. "Is it dangerous?"

Danny shook his head as he studied Gabby's face. Her look of concern was hard to ignore, as it was a look he was all too familiar with. It was the look that Rachel gave him each time he was headed out on patrol in New Jersey early in their marriage. But it wasn't long before Rachel's look had morphed into something else.

Bitterness.

Danny closed his eyes as he tried to shake that particular image from his mind. He and Gabby had already had thoughtful discussions on what it meant to be with a cop… especially a cop who was on the Governor's special task force. She admitted her own feelings of unease surrounding Danny's safety, but she promised that she'd never resent him for it. That was one promise that Danny knew he couldn't hold her to, as hard as he wanted to, but he held on to it, for what it was worth.

"No, it isn't dangerous." He opened his eyes to see her staring back at him, and he pulled her close again. "After this is over, let me take you out to dinner. And then afterwards, maybe I can apologize for not calling you earlier."

His comment had its desired effect as she pulled away smiling. "Sounds like a deal."

"Good," he smiled back before there was a knock on the door and Steve walked in carrying a black duffel bag.

"Oh, sorry," he said as he froze in the doorway. "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes," Danny blurted out the same time Gabby said, "Of course not."

Steve smiled and came in, closing the door behind him. "Time to get ready to go, Danno."

"Right," Danny acknowledged him, but made no move to let go of Gabby. "Remember what I said about dinner," he reminded her quietly.

"I will," she responded softly before leaning in for a kiss. She quickly slipped out of the hotel room, leaving Danny alone with a smirking Steve.

"Shut up," Danny said at his partner before grabbing the tuxedo and slipping back into the bathroom to change.

* * *

"In position."

"Ready in the back, boss."

"Danny, you ready to go?"

"Just waiting for my date."

Danny stood at the entrance to the convention center, waiting for Rachel to arrive. The plan was a simple one, and Rachel's part in it was minimal, at best. Although she seemed up to the challenge of attending the party, Danny was uneasy about the prospect of her confronting the man who could be responsible for her husband's disappearance.

Seeing Gabby earlier had put Danny at ease, and he promised himself to buy Steve a round of beers when this was all over. Seeing her had been a surprise, but a welcome one, as his own stubbornness had prevented him from contacting her when this whole ordeal began. He should have known better, though, than to keep things from her. He had learned early on that Gabby was understanding about his role as a father and ex-husband, and she had done nothing but stick by his side during his own emotional fallout from Grace's kidnapping.

"Remember, Danny," Steve's voice came through clearly in Danny's earpiece. "After you find Sundt, you can't just interrogate him in the middle of the ballroom. Get him someplace quiet and try to get him to open up to you."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Smooth Dog."

Any retort Steve made was ignored by Danny when Rachel stepped out of a cab. Her hair was slicked back and pulled loosely into a ponytail; her dark curls cascading down her left shoulder. She wore a floor-length maroon dress and flat-heeled shoes. She smiled nervously as she approached Danny.

"Daniel."

"Rachel," Danny took her arm and looped it into his. "You look great."

"Thank you."

After reaching the entrance, Rachel handed over their invitations, and together she and Danny joined the throng of people entering the gala event. After a small hallway, a lobby opened up into an even larger conference area that had been converted into a ballroom. Round tables surrounded a dance floor full of couples swaying blissfully to the music. A band was perched on an elevated platform at the far end of the floor. Long banquet tables lined the other side of the room, filled with a large assortment of Hawaiian foods and drinks.

Danny tapped his earpiece once to test the connection. "We're in."

"Hear you loud and clear," Steve responded. "Check in when you find Sundt."

Rachel and Danny wasted little time in scouting the room. They sipped champagne. They made small talk. They even shared a dance in a unique attempt at surveying the gala's events. And after an hour, Robert Sundt finally made his appearance and Danny made contact, although not quite in the controlled way he had hoped.

"Mrs. Edwards?"

Danny and Rachel spun around, and after a moment of stunned silence, Rachel managed to compose herself.

"Robbie, how good to see you," she said as she plastered the best smile she could muster on her face. "Where's Veronica?"

"Home sick, I'm afraid," he responded with a sad smile of his own. "I'm sorry to hear about Stanley. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Danny could see Rachel losing her resolve quickly, and he took control of the situation.

"Hi, I'm Danny Williams." Danny thrust out his hand and Robbie tentatively shook it, Danny noting the change in his demeanor immediately. "How do you know the Edwards family?"

"I, uh, work with Stanley."

"Oh yeah? You guys friends, then?"

"Danny," came Steve's warning in Danny's ear. "Don't push it."

But Danny had simply had enough. Each moment that passed by with Stanley still missing was another moment that the chances of finding him alive went down. If this bozo had anything to do with Stan's disappearance, then he had to get it out of him.

Now.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sundt?" A tall man approached the trio and placed a hand on Sundt's shoulder, and Danny smiled when shorter man jumped at the touch. That sealed the deal for him. Sundt definitely had something to hide. "There is a phone call for you. Can you come with me, please?"

Robert's head bobbed up and down rapidly, and he stuttered and stumbled as he was led away from Danny and Rachel. The detective let him get several paces away before following after him, Rachel close behind. Sundt left the grand room as the taller man never took his hand off of his shoulder, steering him left, and then right into a long hallway. Danny stopped short of the corner, leaning back against the wall and silently encouraged Rachel to do the same. Voices, though soft, drifted to them along the deserted corridor.

"…the hell is going on, Sundt?"

"Wh…what?"

"HPD has been at your place, man. You've been stupid. Sloppy."

"No. No! I've been careful. Really careful!"

Danny risked peeking around the corner. The tall man had Sundt cornered, and he towered over him. He was pointing vigorously at the shaking man.

"If you screwed up, Sundt, it's not the police you have to worry about. Do you understand?"

Danny quickly withdrew his head and held his breath as he heard the taller man making his way toward he and Rachel. Knowing they wouldn't have time to run back into the ballroom, and not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, he did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed Rachel, and spun her around so her back was against the wall.

He barely had time to register her shocked face before he leaned in and kissed her.

She resisted at first, but Danny felt the moment she gave in and she kissed him back. Her hands flew up and raked through his hair, getting lost in the moment. And in that moment, Danny felt something. A pang of something deep within him. Before he could define it, though, the man swept passed them. As soon as Danny was sure he was out of sight, he stepped away from Rachel. She was panting slightly, and her lipstick was askew. She looked curiously at him a moment, but Danny tore his eyes away to look back down the hall.

Sundt was still there, pacing in a small circle.

Danny took a moment to fill his partner in. "Steve, there's a man here. Tall… at least 6 foot. Dark skin. Bald head. Wearing a black suit. He just threatened Sundt."

"On it."

"Danny." Rachel's small voice called to him, and he turned to look at her again.

"Not now Rachel."

"But…"

"Later. Just, not now."

She nodded in reply and Danny cautiously made his way towards Sundt, who still hadn't strayed from his small circle in the floor.

"Mr. Sundt? Can I speak with you a moment, please?"

Robert Sundt looked up a moment, a flash of panic crossing his face, before he sprinted down the hall and through a door. Danny ran after him. Through the door, down another long hallway, and through another door. This one lead to the kitchen area, and Danny found it hard to navigate through the racks of appetizers, stainless steel sinks and employees milling about.

"Danny!" Rachel's voice shouted to him, and he turned to see her running up behind him. "There!"

She pointed and Sundt could barely be seen pushing through a group of chefs, heading toward an emergency exit.

"Steve!" Danny shouted as he grabbed Rachel's hand and they ran through the crowded kitchen. "Emergency exit. Back of the building."

"Roger that."

They were only thirty seconds behind Sundt, but when Danny and Rachel pushed through the door, they found themselves in an empty alleyway that ran along the perimeter of the conference center. Sundt was nowhere in sight.

"We lost him," Danny reported, out of breath.

"Stay there Danny. We'll converge on your location."

Danny nodded, though Steve couldn't see him, and it wasn't until a few moments passed that he realized that he was still holding Rachel's hand. He looked at her and she, too, was huffing slightly as she tried to catch her breath from the short run.

"You okay?"

She nodded curtly as she looked frantically around them. She was trembling slightly as the rush of the night's events crashed over her. She let out a small sob.

"Where is he, Daniel?"

"We'll get him. He couldn't have gotten far." He gave her hand a small squeeze before letting it go and he stepped away from her slightly to start searching for any evidence that may point to where Sundt had headed. Knowing his teammates were closing in, he tried to give her a reassuring smile. However, Rachel was no longer looking at him, but over his shoulder.

He turned just in time to see a dark mass moving rapidly toward him. Suddenly two bright beams blinded him and he could hear the car accelerate. There was no time to shout a warning, let alone move, and he braced himself for the impact he knew was coming. He felt a forceful shove from his left before the vehicle slammed into him, and the next thing he was aware of was the sense of flying… and then falling.

He didn't black out immediately upon impacting the road, but he wished he had. His entire body felt broken, and each breath brought about another wave of pain. Knowing he should be thankful that he was breathing at all didn't quell the desire for unconsciousness to pull him away from the endless anguish he was suffering.

Slowly, painfully, Danny turned his head and saw her. Rachel was on the ground. Bleeding. Unconscious. Alive? He didn't know. He opened his mouth to call to her, but no sound came out. Feebly, he reached out a hand to her, almost touching her, before a different kind of agony coursed through him when he felt himself being moved. That was what finally tipped him over the edge of awareness. As he lost consciousness, his last thoughts were of Rachel's unanswered question…

_Where is he, Daniel?_

At the time, Danny had answered automatically, assuming she was talking about Sundt's disappearance. But now, belatedly so, he realized that she was simply crying out for her missing husband.


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy New Year! ** _ May 2013 bring you health, happiness, and lots of great fan fiction to read!_

* * *

The staff at Queen's Medical Center were ready for him when he arrived; a medical assistant waved him through the emergency room lobby without a word being spoken. It was a busy night, but he barely slowed as he weaved around physicians and nurses before arriving at the nurse's station. Chin and Kono were already there.

"Well?" Steve asked as he reached the pair. "Anything?"

"Nothing yet," Chin answered as Kono shook her head. "Still in surgery."

"Damn," Steve sighed. He propped his hands on his hips and lowered his head, trying to collect his thoughts and organize the chaos that this evening had become. "Okay," he nodded to himself before dropping his hands to his sides. "The car?"

"BOLO has been issued for a dark blue or black SUV," Kono reported. "Though we don't really have much to go on."

"Hitting two people is bound to leave some damage," Chin added helpfully. "We're canvassing for witnesses, but it was a back alley of the center, so…"

Steve didn't need to be reminded of how dire the situation was. None of them had envisioned this night turning out the way it had. It wasn't supposed to have been dangerous. Just a simple surveillance mission. A chance to get in and learn a little more about their chief suspect. Piece of cake.

_Yeah, right_.

"What about Sundt?"

"No sign of him," Chin stated. "We've confirmed that he owns a red Ford Taurus, and his wife drives a tan Sonata. No SUV."

"Doesn't mean it wasn't him. He could have rented it. Borrowed it. Hell, he could have stolen it," Steve grumbled. "You two head out. Find out who was threatening Sundt at the gala. Maybe they were working together on this. Find him, and find Sundt!"

They both turned to go, but Kono stopped. "You staying here, boss?"

"Yeah. I have to think of a way to tell… God, what do I say?"

Kono leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. "You'll think of something, boss." She smiled and turned, jogging to catch up with her cousin.

Steve watched as they walked away, lifting a hand to run through his hair. After a minute, he turned away from the nurse's station and walked to a chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. This case was just one horrible turn after another. Stan's disappearance was hard enough. The resulting fallout with Danny's arrest was even worse. The bright ray of sunshine they'd basked in when Danny had been released into their custody had been short lived once the car ran him down. He and Rachel both.

_Rachel._

How was Steve going to break the news? He didn't have long to dwell on it before a man dressed in scrubs approached him. Steve stood.

"Commander McGarrett?" Steve nodded in response. "I'm Dr. Quincy."

"How did it go?"

"Surgery was successful. Our biggest concern was the sternal fracture. Luckily, serious internal injuries were avoided, meaning we did not have to intubate, but breathing patterns is something we'll be monitoring closely for the next few days." Steve exhaled in relief. It didn't sound great, but it could have been worse. _A lot_ worse. "There was also a non-displaced fracture in the left leg, but that's already been casted. There's obviously a great deal of bruising, but a full recovery is expected."

Steve offered his hand and the doctor shook it. "Thank you, doctor. May I…" Steve trailed, pointing towards the recovery ward.

Dr. Quincy eyed him carefully a moment before nodding. "I can allow it, but please understand that rest is really important right now. No intense interrogations, got it? There is no need to add to what has undoubtedly been a very traumatic experience."

"I understand," Steve assured him.

_Traumatic experience_ didn't even begin to cover it, Steve thought as he followed the doctor. It wasn't about to get any better.

* * *

Another hospital room. Another person he knew… he cared about… injured and suffering. How many more would there be?

Dwelling on these dark thoughts wasn't helping anything, but Steve couldn't help it as he sat in his silent vigil. There had been too many close calls for him, and for those close to him, and they were never easy to handle. He wouldn't admit this openly, of course… not to anyone. He played the part of the stoic SEAL well, and it wasn't that he was concerned about a reputation. But he knew he couldn't fall apart. He had to stay strong for everyone… for himself.

For Danny.

Steve was used to living dangerously. Being a Navy SEAL had trained him well for all sorts of situations, and he prided himself on being able to handle them all with relative, though many times unorthodox, ease. Working with Five-0 was similar. It was too easy to recall the number of times he and his team had been shot at, involved in hand-to-hand altercations, or any other kind of situation in which violence was imminent.

They had a dangerous line of work, and bad things sometimes happened. The risks were well known and generally accepted. _It's all part of the job._ But when it happened to family and friends… those who never signed up for this life… those who were unwillingly thrown into the line of fire… That was when it was almost unbearable.

It was well after visiting hours, but the nursing staff had given up long ago in trying to get Steve to leave. Grace had been by to visit, and it nearly broke Steve to see the little girl sobbing, and he had held her close, whispering reassurances to her the best he could. A friend of Rachel's had graciously offered to keep Grace until things were back to normal.

_Normal._ Steve nearly laughed at the absurdity of the word. No matter how this case turned out, things would hardly ever be normal again. Not for the Edwards family, at least.

After Grace had left for the night, Steve considered leaving as well and helping Chin and Kono with the investigation, but he felt it important to stay. He figured this is what Danny would want him to do, so he stayed, intent on being here when Rachel woke up.

Steve could see the bruises on her face and arms, knowing there were more hidden beneath the blankets. A nose cannula tube hooked around her ears and under her chin. Two IVs were connected to her arms, and her left leg was propped slightly, casted and immobilized. The equipment surrounding her beeped and clicked and recorded her vitals, all while she slept soundly. She looked peaceful, and for that Steve was thankful as he settled into a chair to wait.

Another hour of quiet waiting and pacing was interrupted when Steve's phone vibrated.

"Chin. What have you got?"

"Good news and bad news."

Steve sighed. "Bad news first."

"We found Sundt," Chin reported, but quickly added, "He's dead." Steve shut his eyes as Chin continued. "His body was found in his Taurus in the long-term parking at the airport. Shot in the head."

"Suicide?"

"Not unless he managed to stuff himself into his car's trunk after he shot himself."

Steve opened his eyes and slowly stood, walking over to the window to look out into the dark night. "Is there any sign of…?"

"None. Steve…" Chin paused, and Steve could hear the hesitation in his voice. Whatever was coming next wasn't good. "Max puts his time of death between 8:30 and 9:00. It's a twenty minute drive from the convention center."

"Yeah, so?"

"I don't think he'd have had enough time to stash the SUV, head back to the convention center to get his own car, and then drive out to the airport."

Steve rested his head against the cool window. "So Sundt didn't hit Danny and Rachel."

"I don't think so. But I've got HPD searching every garage, warehouse and parking lot between here and the scene. If it was him and he hid the SUV, we'll find it."

Steve nodded. "Good, Chin. That's good. If Sundt wasn't behind this, then our next best suspect is the guy he was talking to. Any idea-"

"Well, that's the good news," Chin said, and Steve could hear the life coming back into his voice. "We were able to get an ID on our threatening friend. Name is Owen Brining. Kono is working on connecting him to Robbie Sundt. And there's more. We found a witness. Not an incredibly reliable witness, but he says he saw the hit. He's describing the driver to a sketch artist right now."

Steve turned around and looked back at the hospital bed. "Not incredibly reliable?"

"He was high at the time."

Steve couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Of course he was." Steve paused and watched as Rachel's eyelids began to flutter open. "Chin, I gotta go. Keep me posted."

He shut his phone and quickly strode over to her side.

"Rachel," he whispered, moving so he would see his face first when her eyes fully opened. It took a few attempts, but finally her eyes stayed open and they sluggishly locked onto Steve. She was confused, and clearly tired, but Steve offered her a small, hopefully reassuring, smile.

"Wh… hpn'd?"

Steve snatched the Styrofoam cup filled with water and tilted the straw toward Rachel's lips. She gladly took a few sips before repeating her quiet question to Steve.

"You were in an accident," he explained. "What do you remember?"

She closed her eyes. "I… I'm not sure. Everything is… fuzzy."

"It's okay, Rachel. You're going to be just fine. Sore for a while, but fine." Steve smiled again as she opened her eyes. Then something seemed to click, and her eyes darted frantically around the room.

"Daniel. He… I… we were together. At the gala. There…" She searched her memory. "There was a car. Oh my… we… we…"

"Rachel," Steve said firmly, while placing a gentle hand on her arm. "You need to stay calm, okay? Yes, there was a car. You and Danny were hit." Steve stopped, unable to continue. He didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Where's Danny?" Rachel asked calmly, but Steve could see the fear in her eyes. He only hoped that fear wasn't reflected in his own.

Steve moved his hand down her arm and grasped her hand.

"Danny was abducted."

* * *

Danny hated sand. It always got everywhere. Between toes. Underneath fingernails. In hair. Clothing. Eyes. It didn't matter how hard you tried to keep it out. It always found a way in.

When he was little, his mom would take him and his siblings to Stone Harbor. They'd spend the day together swimming and making sand castles. His mom would bathe him in sunscreen, but she'd always manage to miss one spot and he'd head home that night with a red patch of sore skin on his back or on one of his legs.

His favorite part was capping off the day with a trip to Springer's for some ice cream. It didn't matter how many times he rinsed his hands or shook the sand out of his hair, his delicious dessert would manage to get sand in it. He suspected Matty was the culprit.

Then, of course, he came to Hawaii. The land of sand. And he still hated it.

But what Danny was feeling now, against his bare skin, was not Hawaiian sand. Oh sure, he stipulated, he was still on Hawaii, and this sand was undoubtedly from one of its plethora of beaches. But it was too coarse. And rough. And penetrating. Not like Hawaii at all.

He'd pay big dollars to be lying on a Hawaiian beach right now. Anything was better than this.

Groaning, he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head, blinking rapidly to clear the spots that danced across his vision. From what he could see, he was in a small concrete room. Through the fog of pain and disorientation, Danny had the odd sensation of déjà vu, as if this wasn't his first time waking up in this room. But, after a few moments of not remembering much beyond getting hit by a car the size of a freight train, he gave up.

He looked down at himself and saw, with dismay, that it was not sand that was burrowing into his skin, but gravel. He had chunks of it embedded in his calves and, he noticed as he carefully lifted his limbs, on his arms as well. His head felt like a jackhammer was rattling within it, and he lowered it back to the floor with an audible sigh.

"I'm so, so sorry."

The strained voice startled him and he moaned as his body jerked, causing a wave of pain to crash over him, effectively notifying him of other injuries he had not yet noticed.

He craned his neck up and over to see Stan sitting rigidly on a cot, holding several papers of some kind. He looked terrible, and Danny's breath caught in his throat at the lingering agony in his eyes. His clothes were ragged. He'd already lost a visible amount of weight. Some bruising on his face showed signs of healing, while more recent cuts and scrapes were achingly raw and seeping. Danny could see that Stan was barely holding it together as he retreated and closed his eyes.

"Stanley," Danny acknowledged him before turning his head back away and closing his eyes. "Nice place you've got here. Who's your decorator?"

Stanley remained quiet, and questions flew through Danny's mind. Why was he here? Who had taken him? What had happened to Rachel? Was she okay? What had Stan gone through these past few days? But he was exhausted and could already feel bone-deep weariness pulling him back under. So he settled for the first question that came to him.

"What did you do to me, Stan?"

The question may have seemed odd to anyone listening, but the guilt that hung heavily in the room was impossible to ignore. Amid the headache, the myriad of scrapes and bruises, and the telltale symptoms of a broken rib or two, were a few injuries that so far his muddled thoughts could not explain. Not to mention that sinking feeling was back that he'd been here before. Only it had been dark, and there were voices. Some shouting. Some pleading.

And then pain. _Lots_ of pain.

Bits and pieces started coming back to him, and after a few more minutes went by with no reaction from Stan, Danny clumsily maneuvered himself around so he could see him. Stan only stared at the items in his hands, and the silence spoke volumes.

"Stan, just tell me..." he started, but he was stopped by the sound of a door opening and he turned to see a man step into the room.

"Ah, Detective Williams. Awake again at last. Stanley and I were wondering if you'd wake up. I tried to get a friendly wager going, but Mr. Edwards isn't a gambling man. Are you, Stanley?"

Again, nothing but silence from Stan, but Danny couldn't blame him. This guy was clearly a nut job, but he also possessed a dangerous presence that was somewhat intimidating.

"Nothing to say, Detective? Nothing at all?" The man's cheery voice was grating.

"Nope," he replied simply. No need to waste his dwindling energy playing this guy's game. He seemed the talkative sort, and Danny figured that he'd spill his master plan before too long. Then, Danny silently hoped, he'd have time to figure out where he was, and how to get himself, along with Stan, out and away.

"Surely you have some questions for Stanley?" He paused, waiting for Danny to say something. "About what happened last night? What he did?"

Danny's brow furrowed and he began to feel his anger simmering. "Look, buddy, unless Stan was driving the car that hit me…" Danny paused, suddenly seized with the crazy notion that Stan _was_ driving the car that hit him. But another look at Stan told him that he was in no condition to leave the room, let alone drive an armored SUV. "I have nothing to say."

"No, here. In this room. _After_ the accident."

Danny raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You don't remember?" Danny closed his eyes as his response to this ridiculous line of questioning.

"That is interesting," the man commented airily, as if discussing the weather or yesterday's ballgame. "Interesting. Stanley, why don't you show the Detective here what you have in your hands? I'm sure he'd love to see what has brought him here."

The documents instantly fell from Stan's fingertips and floated to the floor, landing inches from Danny's face. And then Danny understood. They weren't papers… they were photos.

Photos of Danny and Rachel.

They were at the gala's entrance, arm in arm, Danny in his tuxedo and Rachel in her evening gown. Then they were dancing together on the ballroom's floor, surrounded by people, a smile on Rachel's face. Holding hands in the alley moments after they'd lost sight of Robbie Sundt, both their faces flushed from the chase.

Danny closed his eyes. The general effort of staying awake just wasn't worth it anymore, and he craved the sleep that his body was demanding.

"Look buddy," he mumbled, as he nearly succumbed to sleep. "I don't what you hope to accomplish here. But you aren't going to get it. Whatever it is."

Danny could feel a presence lingering over him, and as he cracked his eyes open, he could see the other man looming over him with a smug grin.

"I've already gotten what I want, Detective." Another photo fell toward the ground, and this one landed on Danny's chest. He lifted his head slightly to see it, and the breath whooshed out of him. This one was of Rachel, only she wasn't dancing or smiling. She was on the ground, bleeding. Her dress was torn and she looked…

"Where's Rachel?" Danny demanded with the last of his energy. From his right, he could feel Stan's eyes on him, his breathing stopped momentarily as the question hung out there, begging to be answered.

The man's twisted smile only grew as he turned and walked out of the room.

"She's dead," he said, and slammed the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

_She's dead._

Danny closed his eyes and tried to remember. He and Rachel had been outside… in an alley… searching for Stan. No, not Stan. Someone else. There was a car speeding toward him. He froze. Time stopped. The car slammed into him, and he remembered the sensation of flying immediately before slamming into the concrete.

_She's dead._

Rachel wasn't even standing near him when the car had come careening down the street. They had been close together initially, but he had stepped away from her. Hadn't he?

_She's dead._

Before… just before being hit by the car, he had felt something. A shove. A push from his left. Rachel. It had to have been Rachel trying, unsuccessfully, to shove Danny out of the path of the oncoming car. But why? Why would she do that?

_She's dead._

No. Danny refused to accept it.

"She's dead."

This time it wasn't the man's voice echoing wildly in his mind, but a small, broken voice behind him. Danny turned and looked at Stan. His head was buried in his trembling hands, and Danny knew that if was barely hanging on before, it was only a matter of time before he completely lost it. He tried to sit up, but the pain made it impossible to move more than a few inches, and he sank back down to the floor, panting from the pitiful effort.

Stan seemed to snap to it and, sensing Danny's troubles, moved from the cot and shuffled over. He silently slid his hands under Danny's arms and lifted. Danny groaned from the movement, and black spots clouded his vision again. He must have blacked out, because the next thing he was aware of was being carefully lowered onto the uncomfortable cot.

He wanted to say thank you, but instead mumbled, "You look like hell, Stanley."

At that, Stan snorted, but he wouldn't make eye contact with Danny as he walked, hunch-backed, over to the opposite wall and sagged to the floor.

"He killed her."

Danny closed his eyes.

"We don't know that, Stan."

"I had an affair."

Danny's eyes popped open.

"I know."

"You had an affair, too," Stan said, his voice strained and distant.

Danny was having a hard time following Stan's jumps in topic.

"Yes, Stan, I did," he admitted.

"I knew. Did you know that?"

Danny tried to catch Stan's eyes, but he wouldn't look at him.

"No, I didn't know that."

"I knew. I was mad. And so I had one too."

Danny waited until Stan looked at him to ask, "What happened last night?"

Stan didn't move. Didn't speak. It wasn't until Danny repeated the question that he responded at all.

"I don't… I…" Stan struggled to begin. "He dragged you in here. And there was a gun. I hadn't seen that before. Even when he took me… And then those pictures. He was _bragging_. And kicking you. Bragging and kicking. And then getting so mad that I wasn't mad."

Danny tried to follow along Stan's jumbled words that tumbled rapidly from him, watching as his glassy eyes moved frantically around the room as he re-lived it all.

"He said that you were sleeping together. And that Rachel was glad I was gone. And that everything was my fault. But it was _your_ fault too. And he said… we needed to be punished… _you_ needed to be punished. I'm sorry, Danny. I didn't… want to. He had a gun. He said he'd kill you and plant evidence that I did it. So I… he and I… God, I'm so sorry Danny. I _hit_ you."

Danny could fill in the rest as he watched Stan continue to rub the dried blood off his hands. He hadn't paid it much attention before, but now it made sense. It was Danny's blood. Stan had essentially been forced to beat the crap out of Danny. No wonder the night's events were all jumbled… as if being hit by a car hadn't been enough, he'd been punched and kicked and God knows what else by Step-Stan.

He was angry, but he was also exhausted. And that bone-deep tiredness won-out.

"It's okay," Danny whispered as he closed his eyes.

"No, no it's not okay," Stan argued, but Danny shook his head.

"You listen to me," he continued, eyes still closed. "I shot you. Ok? I shot you and you let me do it."

"What?"

"For Grace," Danny clarified. "I shot you, and I could have killed you. So I think you throwing a few punches my way means we're even."

Stan seemed to absorb that information for a moment, before nodding, though Danny didn't think he looked too convinced. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely convinced either. All of this was a bit much to take in, and he still hadn't entirely figured out _why_ he was here at all.

"Danny… is she dead?"

Danny sighed at the sudden jump in conversation again. Stan was in bad shape. And based on his own ragged breathing, fuzzy memories, and inability to remain conscious for long periods of time, he was in bad shape too. As he felt unconsciousness pulling him back under, images of Rachel bleeding and unconscious flooded his mind.

"I don't know, Stan. I don't know."

* * *

"How's Rachel?" Kono asked Steve as he strode into Five-0 headquarters early the following morning. After taking Rachel's statement at the hospital, Steve had allowed himself only a few hours of sleep and a quick shower before driving back to the office.

"She's upset," Steve replied, sparing a quick glance to Danny's empty office. "But she'll be okay. What have you got?"

"A lot," Kono said with a thin smile, and Steve followed her into her office. "First, I found something interesting. Stan has a second cell phone number registered to his name."

Kono sat behind her desk, typed in a few commands on her laptop, and turned it around so Steve could see.

"It never showed up on his financial history, so my guess is that he pays cash for it each month," she continued. "There is only one number programmed into it, and it belongs to Ashleigh Whitworth."

Steve nodded, following along Kono's train of thought. "Okay, so he gets this phone to communicate with her when they're having the affair."

"Exactly. And when I pulled up his phone's recent history, it shows that Stan received a text from Ashleigh Whitworth's phone at 7:00 the night he went missing, asking him to meet her in Wai'anae."

Steve closed his eyes a moment, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache he already could feel forming. "But her alibi for that night checked out. She was chairing-"

"An Oahu First meeting, I know," Kono finished. "Over a dozen people confirmed she was there. The thing is, I spoke with Ashleigh this morning. She confirmed that she had a burner phone that she used to contact Stan with when they were together, but that she lost it a month ago. She never bothered looking for it because she and Stan had called it quits months before that, so she didn't really need it anymore. She denied texting him that night."

"Did they find Stan's disposable in his car?" Kono shook her head in response. "Okay, let's pretend for a moment that she's telling the truth. Whoever sent that message not only knew about their relationship, but somehow got a hold of her phone to bait Stan."

Steve paused, silently bouncing around several theories.

"What about Robert Sundt? He worked with Ashleigh in Oahu First, _and_ he worked with Stan at Platinum Coast. He could have easily known about the affair."

"Well," she paused, looking rather apprehensive, "I found out more about Sundt. And you're not going to like it."

"Kono, I haven't liked anything about this case from the minute Rachel walked through that door five days ago."

"Okay, well, I found the connection between Owen Brining – the man threatening Sundt at the gala," Kono reminded him, "and Robert Sundt. It turns out that Sundt has been siphoning money out of Platinum Coast for years, and Brining is some sort of cleaner, funneling the money around and then depositing it back into Sundt's account."

"He's stealing from his own company."

"You've got it," Kono confirmed. "HPD brought in Brining for questioning late last night. He spilled the beans on Sundt's whole operation the minute they got him into interrogation. It looks like Sundt was getting rather greedy and hiding some of the money from Brining, which fueled the hostile encounter at the gala. He lawyered-up the minute they started asking him about Sundt's murder, but he did mention that he'd never heard of Stan Edwards, or Ashleigh Whitworth."

Steve sighed, feeling more and more dejected by the minute. "It's looking as though Sundt had nothing to do with this. And we have no idea who sent Stan that text."

"Looks like we're back to square one, boss."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Steve and Kono turned to see Chin standing in the doorway, a big smile on his face. Behind him, a taller, aging man quietly stood, anxiously looking back at them. "You guys are going to want to hear this."

* * *

"This is Kainoa Victor," Chin introduced the older man to Steve and Kono. "He's the evening supervising janitor for our building."

Steve nodded to the gentlemen as they all took a seat inside Steve's office.

"Let me give you a little background information before we get started," Chin continued. "Awhile back, you asked me to pull up surveillance around Five-0 so we could check to see if Danny stayed in the office the night Stan went missing. The footage doesn't show Danny leaving the building," Chin said with a small smile. "But, we all know that cameras can be avoided. Knowing you'd want rock-solid evidence that Danny was here all night, I called Mr. Victor in to see if he could confirm Danny's presence in the office."

"And?"

"And he was here, Commander," Kainoa replied firmly. "He was in his office when I came by to do my normal cleaning. Knowing you guys don't like to be bothered when you're working late on a case, I left him alone. I don't even think he saw me stop by."

"Good," Steve said with a relieved smile. Kainoa's statement would officially clear Danny of any suspicion in Stan's abduction. "Thank you, Mr. Victor."

Steve made a move to stand, but Chin motioned for him to remain seated.

"There's more, Steve. Mr. Victor?"

At Chin's gentle prodding, Kainoa cleared his throat and looked nervously at Steve.

"I am an old man, Commander. I will probably have to retire soon. Osteoarthritis in both my hands, you see." He held his hands out in front of him a moment, regarding them sadly, before quickly regaining eye-contact with Steve. "This job may not be much, but it's all I have. I've had to cut back my hours lately. My wife is sick. Laryngeal Cancer. Lots of doctor's appointments to get to…"

He paused a moment to clear his throat.

"Lots of doctor's appointments to pay for," he finished.

Steve nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Victor. But what…"

"I was approached by a man several weeks ago," Kainoa interrupted. "Didn't tell me what his name was, and didn't ask me for mine. It happened just like it does in the movies, with a mysterious guy in a hat and sunglasses asking a stranger for a favor? He just handed me a manila envelope filled with cash, saying all he wanted was something from Detective Williams' office."

Steve immediately sat up a little straighter, and Kainoa looked away, suddenly looking a little nervous.

"The money couldn't have come at a better time," he said in a quiet voice. "And all he wanted was for me to take something out of an office. I know it was stealing, but my wife…"

He trailed off, and when it looked like he wasn't going to continue, Steve asked, "What did you take?"

"A mug," Kainoa whispered, then repeated more loudly, "a mug. It was sitting on his desk. And I knew it was something he used a lot… that was one of the two requirements that the other guy told me. He said it _had_ to be something that Detective Williams would have touched a lot."

"What was the second requirement?" Chin asked.

"He gave me a pair of gloves and a plastic bag. He said I couldn't touch whatever I took."

Steve shared a look with Chin, and Kono finally voiced what they had all figured out.

"Danny's prints. His thumb and ring-finger. That's how he got them."

"Would you be able to sit down with a sketch artist?" Steve asked, finally feeling as though they were one step closer to finding out where Stan and Danny were. Because through it all, Steve had never once thought that Stan was anything but alive. And with Danny gone too, he had to believe that his partner was out there alive as well.

"I'm not proud of what I did, Commander," Kainoa stated, ignoring Steve's question. "And I am sorry if anything that I did has caused any sort of harm."

"I understand, Mr. Victor, I do. But right now all I am concerned about is finding my partner," Steve resolutely stated. "Now, would you be able to describe the man who approached you?"

"That might not be necessary," Chin stated, and Steve noticed he was looking at something on his phone. "I just got a text from HPD, and they sent over an image that the sketch artist drew up of our hit-and-run driver. Looks like our pot-head had a decent memory."

Chin stood and handed his phone over to Steve.

"Recognize him?"

Steve nodded, his teeth clenched in agitation. He stood and walked around his desk, turning the phone around so the janitor could also see the image.

"Is this the guy?"

The other man eyed it only for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Yes, that's him."

Steve turned the phone back around and stared at the face. It was Malachi Whitworth.


	9. Chapter 9

The team sprang into action after Malachi Whitworth was identified. Kono immediately went to work on issuing a BOLO on their newest suspect, while Chin took Mr. Victor's official statement. Steve, however, could not wait in the office, and he nearly sprinted to his truck.

He made it to the Whitworth home in record time.

He peered through the windows as he pounded impatiently at the door with one hand while his other rested on his sidearm at his waist. Danny's alarmed voice in Steve's head suddenly reminded him that he shouldn't have come without backup. The unexpected reprimand brought a sad smile to Steve's face. Even in his absence, Danny was making his presence known.

The sound of footsteps approaching the front door alerted Steve that someone was home, and he was beginning to wonder if he should have at least brought Chin or Kono with him. Malachi had already proven himself to be cunning and viscous, and there was no telling what he would do now that he'd been discovered.

Steve had to make a quick decision: arrest Malachi and risk him not revealing where Danny and Stan were being kept (although, Steve was very confident in his abilities in getting men to talk); or he could play it slow and see if Malachi slipped up and revealed something unintentionally.

It ended up being a moot point once the door swung open to reveal a very surprised Ashleigh Whitworth.

"Commander McGarrett, what are you doing here?" she asked, clearly annoyed. "I think I've already answered all of your questions. Unless… have you found…?"

"No," he replied as he looked over her shoulder into the home. "We still haven't found Mr. Edwards. Is your husband home?"

"No. He's not." A long pause. "Why?"

"Mind if I take a look?" Steve didn't wait for an answer as he pushed by her, pulling out his gun and doing a room-by-room search, completely ignoring Ashleigh's protests.

The modest home was easy to search… one bedroom, one office, a kitchen and sitting area, and an attached garage. There were no obvious signs of anyone being held here against their will, though Steve would still have HPD do a thorough search of the house once a search warrant officially went through, and unfortunately there was no sign of Malachi.

"See?" she proclaimed as he finished his sweep and re-holstered his weapon. "What is this all about? I thought you already questioned my husband. He had nothing to do with Stan's disappearance."

Steve responded by pulling out his phone and showing her the image of her husband. "This is a sketch image of the man who ran down two people last night, one of which was my partner. The same partner that your husband is trying to frame for the abduction, and possible murder, of Stanley Edwards."

Ashleigh shook her head rapidly as Steve spoke, her eyes filling with unshed tears, as she clearly did not want to accept what he was telling her. He pushed on.

"I have one eyewitness who places him at the scene last night. I have another who says your husband paid him to steal something from Danny Williams' office. I believe that he used that item to plant fake fingerprints at the crime scene. What I don't know is if you are involved in this or not. So tell me. Where is your husband?"

Ashleigh took a few stumbling steps over to a couch and sat, the tears flowing freely now.

"I don't… He… I…" She stumbled over her words, and Steve had no patience for it. He knelt in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. That seemed to snap her out of it for a moment and she looked at him. "I don't know. He… didn't come home yesterday. I haven't seen him for a few days."

Steve sighed and was about to call this visit a big waste of time before Ashleigh whispered, her voice barely audible above her sniffling and sobbing.

"But… he does have a garage. He spends a lot of time there when he's stressed… has a cot he sleeps on and everything."

"I need you to tell me where it is," Steve demanded as he gripped her shoulders tightly. Ashleigh closed herself off again, fumbling over words and not saying anything that Steve could understand. He felt his phone vibrating, and he released her shoulders to answer, but did not back away.

"McGarrett," he answered.

"Boss, I found the SUV," Kono reported. "A rental registered to Malachi Whitworth. Luckily it comes with a vehicle recovery device, and I have the GPS location. I'm sending you the coordinates now."

Steve was already standing and on his way out the door, leaving Ashleigh Whitworth weeping in his wake. His phone beeped, indicating the arrival of the coordinates.

"Got it. You and Chin meet me there."

* * *

Steve killed his truck's engine a block away from Malachi's garage. It was small, out of the way, and clearly derelict. What once was possibly blue paint was peeling off every surface. Holes and cracks were scattered throughout the building's cement exterior. It blended in perfectly with the other buildings in the area, and to the casual eye, it would be easy to walk by and think it had been completely abandoned.

The only clue that indicated any sign of life was the hood of a bright orange GTO peeking out into the sunlight from the opened garage door. He could not see any activity from within, but the presence of a black SUV parked on the side of the structure indicated that Malachi's presence was a near certainty.

Steve thought that this was a perfect place to keep someone hidden. Ever since Danny had been taken, he had refused to think Danny was dead. And since his partner had believed Stan to be alive during this entire ordeal, Steve believed it as well. Logic dictated that they were being held together, and this looked to be as good of place as any.

Kono's car pulled up behind him, and he got out of the truck to greet her. She and Chin were already pulling on their Kevlar vests, and the resounding click of Chin's shotgun was enough of a signal that they were both ready to storm the garage and find their missing friend. They approached the building cautiously, with Chin and Kono taking point on the western edge while Steve advanced from the east. There did not appear to be any other entrances except from the front, and considering the small size of the garage, apprehending Malachi, if he was indeed inside, shouldn't have been too much of a problem.

At least that was what Steve thought _before_ the GTO's engine sprang to life and it accelerated out of the garage at an alarming speed. Steve barely had time to leap out of the car's path before it careened out of the garage and down the street, its tires screeching and rubber burning against the asphalt. Through all this, however, time seemed to slow for just a moment, giving Steve a chance to stare down the vehicle's driver as he drove away.

Quickly identifying him as their newest suspect, Steve sprinted to his car, yelling over his shoulder at Chin and Kono to stay behind and search the area for Danny and Stan. Within seconds he was behind the wheel of his truck, peeling away from the curb in hot pursuit of Malachi's Pontiac. He had to take some educated guesses on which way he could have gone, but it wasn't long before Steve got lucky and saw the tail-end of the orange car turning down a side street fifty yards ahead of him. Traffic was light in mid-day, which made it easy for Steve to keep tabs on Malachi's car. Still, that didn't prevent the Pontiac from bobbing and weaving around what scattered vehicles were on the roads at this time of day in an attempt at making a grand escape from Steve's pursuit.

Steve slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the front bumper of his truck sped closer and closer to Malachi's car until it finally rammed into it, causing the smaller car to lurch forward. Malachi over-corrected, and he quickly began to lose control of the car. Another well-timed rear-ending from Steve's truck had the GTO in the start of a spin-out, and Steve slammed on his brakes as Malachi over-corrected again, and the car veered into an empty gas station, barely missing the pumping stations in its center as it finally came to a stop.

Steve opened his door, and slipped out of his truck, gun already pulled and aimed at the driver's side door of the other car.

"Malachi Whitworth!" Steve yelled, cautiously stepping away from his truck and walking toward the stalled vehicle. "This is Commander McGarrett with Five-0! Step out of the vehicle with your hands up!"

There was an eerie silence as no movement came from the car, and Steve thought for a moment that Malachi had been knocked out in the crash. But that moment was shattered when gun shots rang out through the windshield of the GTO, and Steve leapt and rolled so he was hidden once again by his open truck door.

A few errant shots went wide, pinging off the ground surrounding the truck, before one hit the door dead center. Steve instinctively ducked and fired a few shots back, all of them hitting the windshield, causing it to shatter and explode inward. When there was no immediate retaliatory fire, Steve yelled out again.

"Malachi Whitworth! Surrender your weapon now and exit the vehicle!"

"NO!"

Another few gun shots pinged off Steve's truck, but Steve didn't return fire right away. Instead, he cautiously maneuvered himself along the bed of his truck, and made his way back around the other side, careful to keep his body hidden from Malachi's sight. From this angle, he didn't have a good shot at the car, but he was able to see the fueling tanks perfectly. Waiting for a cease in Malachi's shots, Steve took careful aim and fired three times, expertly hitting the bolts and framings that supported the tank.

"Wait! WAIT! What are you doing? The tank will explode!" Malachi's panicked voice reached Steve, and he smiled as he fired off another round. "Are you trying to kill us?!"

"No," Steve replied loudly, but with deadly calm. "Just you." Another shot intentionally missing the tank by mere inches. "Tell me where Danny Williams and Stan Edwards are!"

When there was so immediate reply, Steve fired his gun off again, this one knocking a small advertisement off the top of the fueling station.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you!"

"Toss out your weapon first," Steve demanded. He peered over the hood of his truck and saw a small caliber gun thrown through the window. "Show me your hands!"

Malachi's shaking hands appeared, and Steve jogged to the car, yanking open the door and pulling the other man roughly out. He slammed Malachi's back against the closest gas pump, keeping his gun trained one him as he leaned into his face.

"Where are they?" Malachi shook his head.

Though the other man trembled, he could see the cold, calculated hatred radiating in his eyes. His gaze shifted from the commander's face to just over his right shoulder, where Steve could hear another car approaching. Two car doors slammed shut, announcing the arrival of Chin and Kono.

"Anything?" Steve asked, not daring to take his attention away from Malachi.

"Plenty of evidence from the SUV," Chin announced from behind him. "But no sign of Stan or Danny."

Steve slammed Malachi hard against the tank again as he shouted into his face.

"You hear that, Whitworth?" Steve growled. "You're going away for a long time. But it will be a lot better for you if you tell me where they are."

He stared the commander down a moment before finally sagging slightly in Steve's grasp.

"Edwards ruined my life," Malachi moaned, looking pleadingly from Steve, to Chin and Kono, and then back to Steve again. His face hardened. "Oahu First was my baby. MINE! Not Ashleigh's! And when she and… that _man_… started sleeping together, Ashleigh started getting soft. Told me we should back off Platinum Coast and focus on _other_ groups. Other groups?! Who was she kidding? She may have been the face of our company, but I was the one with everything to lose! I had to make him pay. Expose him for who he really is. An adulterer! And he gets to go on with his happy life after sleeping with my wife?! No! I had to make him pay. And Detective Williams… well, he's just the same, isn't he? Taking advantage of another man's wife while he is missing. It's disgusting!"

It made Steve sick to his stomach to think that Danny was hurt someplace all because of this man's twisted idea of revenge. He'd had enough of Malachi's rambling nonsense, and he fired off another shot, this one just above the man's head. He cowered a moment, before a dark scowl crossed his features again.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time," Steve stated with a deadly calm he didn't truly feel. "Where are they?"

* * *

Later, when Danny would ask Steve about how he tracked down Mr. Whitworth, he would conveniently leave out the car chase. And the shootout. Not to mention the _creative_ interrogation technique that was used at the abandoned gas station.

Steve would simply state that Ashleigh, Malachi's wife, broke down in tears when she found out that her husband was responsible for the abduction of her former lover, and she hesitantly gave up the location of Malachi's garage… a place he frequented often to restore his beloved Pontiac GTO.

From there, it was a simple, _by-the-book_ questioning of Mr. Whitworth, who, under no duress what-so-ever, gave up the location of where Stan and Danny were being kept.

Steve was very grateful that Danny _had_ the chance to ask Steve about it, because there were a few tense moments, immediately after he had opened that door to find him lying unconscious on a filthy cot, that he was certain that his partner was dead.

The small room was dimly lit and smelled like death. There was no movement. No sound. No reaction at all when he, along with Chin and Kono, stormed through the door 18 hours after Danny had been hit by the SUV, and five full days after Stan had gone missing.

Steve had barely registered Stan's presence, only just acknowledging that he was alive before immediately attending to Danny.

He looked like hell.

He was beaten and bruised. There was dried blood matted in his hair, on his hands, smeared on his clothing. His breathing was rapid and shallow and he was drenched in sweat. Steve tried to get him to wake up, but Danny would not respond. Minutes that felt like hours dragged by before an ambulance finally arrived and EMTs brusquely pushed Steve aside as they worked on stabilizing Danny. Steve stayed close and didn't miss the look of concern that passed between the two paramedics before they moved Danny to a stretcher, strapped him down, and began carrying him toward the waiting ambulance.

"I'm going with you," Steve announced, vaguely aware of Stan also being attended to behind them.

"I'm sorry sir, but there's not much room."

Steve summoned his best glare, and the paramedic wilted.

"Fine."

Steve gave some parting orders to Chin and Kono before the rear doors of the ambulance slammed shut. He supposed he should stay behind to help secure the scene, but the determined nods from his two teammates was evidence enough for him that the job would get done.

Right now, getting Danny safely to the hospital was all that mattered. The rest could be sorted out later.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you to Cokie's doctor pal who helped with the medical portion of this chapter. Any remaining mistakes are mine, as I did continue to tweak it a little bit.**

* * *

Steve couldn't do anything but watch as the medical staff unloaded the stretcher from the ambulance and hurried it through the doors of the hospital. Steve was nearly out of the back of the ambulance himself when he saw someone in scrubs climb on top of the stretcher to begin administering CPR to his friend.

_Damn it, Danny… You've made it this far…_

Steve jogged to catch up as Danny was pushed through the halls of the hospital, but he wasn't able to follow them far before a nurse grabbed his arm, forcing him to wait in the ER's waiting room. It was like déjà vu. For a few moments he frantically paced, but eventually he sat down and forced himself not to fidget. A short time later, a second team of medical personnel rushed through with another stretcher, this one carrying Stan. Steve hated to admit it, but he hadn't even spared the other man a single thought… all of them were currently directed toward his partner.

Steve stood and quickly followed behind the second team of physicians, using the current flurry of activity as a cover to sneak past the nurse's station and enter the inner sanctum of the emergency room. No one noticed as he silently made his way toward the end of the hall, where nurses were rushing in and out of one of the patient rooms. Steve's heart dropped when he leaned around the doorway to see chaos within.

Danny was lying lifeless on the bed, a stark contrast to the wild activity swirling around him.

"IV is in," a nurse was reporting. "Pulse is 180. Oxygen Saturation is at 70%."

"Push 4 units of O-neg," a physician responded as he ripped open Danny's shirt and began chest compressions.

Steve stepped in and stood off to the side, standing silent and rigid as the medical teams worked on saving his partner. _C'mon, Danny. Don't do this to me…_

"…probable hemothorax. Prep for a chest tube."

"V-fib," the nurse announced, far too calmly.

"Epinephrine, 1mg. IV push."

Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to look away as Danny's body began to shut down.

"Charge the defibrillator."

"Charging!"

"360 joules. Clear!"

CPR was ceased a split second before the charge was administered. Steve closed his eyes as Danny's body refused to respond to the life-saving efforts. _Please, Danny… please…_

"Again!

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

Steve had a flashback to when Danny was brought in to the emergency room after his exposure to Sarin. Watching him struggle to breathe had been agonizing for him. But this was worse. Much, much worse.

"Resume CPR."

"Sir, you can't be in here."

"Another Epinephrine, 1mg. IV push."

"They're ready for him upstairs."

"Got to get him stable, first. Charge it again."

"Charging!"

"Sir, you have to leave."

It took Steve a moment to realize that someone was speaking to him, and he opened his eyes to find a nurse standing directly in front of him. Though she barely reached his shoulders, her presence was formidable and she fixed him with a commanding, yet somehow sympathetic, gaze. Steve let her guide him outside of the room with promises that she'd have someone inform him of any changes as soon as possible.

Steve risked one more look at his partner, praying that it wasn't the last time he would see him alive.

* * *

"Commander McGarrett?"

Steve nearly shot out of the chair he'd been sitting in for the past several hours. He glanced quickly over to Chin and Kono, who were sprawled awkwardly on their own respective chairs. Kono's head rested against Chin's shoulder as they slept. They had arrived just over an hour ago and joined Steve in his silent vigil as they waited for word on Danny.

Steve recognized the man as the same doctor that had worked on Rachel the day before.

"How is he?"

"Shall we head to a more private area?" Steve swallowed but nodded, and Dr. Quincy led him down a passageway and inside a small conference room. "Have a seat, Commander. Mr. Williams is stable, but critical. He suffered from a hemothorax, most likely caused by blunt force trauma to his chest. He had a significant amount of internal bleeding as a result. The amount of pooled blood is consistent with the amount of time that has passed since the accident. I _am_ assuming he was hit with the same vehicle as Mrs. Edwards?" Steve nodded. "Quite frankly, Commander, he is very lucky. We've inserted a chest tube, and we'll keep that in until everything has been drained and his lung has re-inflated."

Steve took a deep breath, but the doctor wasn't done.

"His spleen also ruptured, but we are choosing to wait and monitor it. We hope it will heal on its own. Several other injuries, however none are life-threatening. I'll say it again, Commander… he is extremely lucky that you brought him in when you did. We'll be watching him for several more hours before he is moved into a room. You'll be able to see him then."

Steve nodded. Finally finding his voice, he asked, "What about Stanley Edwards? He was brought in right after Danny."

"Mr. Edwards is not one of my patients. However, I'll ask my colleagues and see what I can find out."

"Thank you."

Steve stood and followed Dr. Quincy back out into the waiting room. He afforded a small smile at the cousins, who hadn't moved an inch during his absence.

True to his word, Dr. Quincy led Steve back to see Danny three hours later. If it was possible, he looked worse than he had when Steve had found him before.

The bruises were darker. His eyes were sunken. His face was pale. The amount of machinery attached to him was remarkable, and Steve let out a shaky breath as he pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand on Danny's arm, giving it a small squeeze.

"You're going to be okay, Danny."

There was no response from the slumbering man, but Steve didn't really expect one. He released his hold on his friend and leaned back in the chair, getting as comfortable as possible for the long wait.

* * *

Hours dragged into days, and a routine settled in for the Five-0 team as they divided their time between visiting their injured friend and finishing up the case.

Grace was a frequent visitor, making the trek through the hospital hallways to see her father, her mother, and her step-father. Rachel was on the mend and was roomed on a floor below Danny's. Stan was also still admitted, though it was a slight case of malnutrition that was keeping him hospital-bound, not his injuries. It looked as though husband and wife would be released on the same day, and Grace's relief at having her family back together was intense. There was the constant sadness, however, over Danny's continued unconsciousness. The doctors didn't seem concerned, so that helped ease some of the tension that the entire family and Five-0 team felt.

The days, though long, had shown great improvement for Danny. He still looked horrible, in Steve's opinion, but at least he was breathing on his own… a mask covering half his face, providing the needed oxygen as his lung continued to heal. Bruises were now yellowing, and the swelling that had been prominent a few days ago had almost completely disappeared.

Steve spent as much time as he could at the hospital, but he knew closing the case was almost as important as standing watch over his partner. The ease of which the team was able to quickly put this case to bed almost made up for the frustrations they suffered through in the beginning.

Malachi Whitworth admitted to Stan's kidnapping, although the confession was unnecessary with the amount of evidence piled against him. His once-solid alibi crumbled once word got out regarding his arrest, as participants of the Hawaiian Conservation Alliance conference didn't remember seeing him during portions of the evening's opening event. In addition to the confession, Stan's testimony, Mr. Victor's participation, and the fact that two men were found beaten and locked inside an isolated structure leased out to Whitworth, there was also Stan's disposable phone, found in Malachi's possession, which he had used to lure Stan out in the first place.

Steve had been more than happy to let HPD tie up all of the loose ends, but he did have to step in once it was revealed that Danny had been looking into Stan on his own time. Being the head of the Governor's task force had its benefits, and he fully took advantage of it now to essentially sweep it all under the rug the best he could. Time would only tell if it would come back to hurt Danny.

It was as tight of a case as you could get. And for that, Steve was thankful. Now they could only plan for the upcoming emotional fallout.

Steve had borne witness to Stan's confession to his wife regarding the affair. A wheelchair-bound Rachel had nowhere to run as her husband apologized for his unfaithfulness to her those many months ago, and she silently wept at his bedside. Steve had left shortly after, allowing the married couple to talk for several hours before Rachel returned to her own hospital room. The Five-0 leader dared not ask her what had transpired, though her red-rimmed eyes and stoic behavior gave him some clues.

Grace and Charlie were both frequent visitors. Stan's sister had flown in from the mainland to take over full-time care of the children while their parents recovered. Grace, though still more subdued than Steve was used to, was always a ray of sunshine to the entire medical staff. Nurses doted on her whenever she was around, happy to escort her between the three hospital rooms which spanned two floors, and bringing her soft-serve ice cream when she arrived after school.

It had been three days since the rescue, and Steve found himself at Danny's bedside early one morning, as had become routine for him. Chin had taken the overnight shift the evening before, and Steve was feeling refreshed after getting his first full-night's sleep in over a week. The team didn't want Danny waking up alone, so someone was always with him, and it was only luck that had Steve here with Danny when he finally showed signs of waking… his eyes fluttering open for a mere moment before closing again. Steve leaned closer to the bed, grasping Danny's arm in a manner that had become habit to him over the past thirty-six hours.

"Danny? Hey, buddy, you with me?"

Danny's eyes cracked open once more and his gaze moved uncomprehendingly around the room before settling on Steve. He blinked a few times, and then his eyes sagged closed once more.

"C'mon, Danno. It's time to wake up." Steve squeezed the arm again, almost desperate for Danny to stay awake. The pleading, or the pressure, had its desired effect, and Danny's eyes re-opened, fixating on Steve's face. "Hey, it's good to see you."

Danny's lips moved, his soft breath fogging the inside of the mask, but Steve couldn't make out what he was trying to say. He leaned in even closer.

"What?"

It was soft, barely a whisper, but Steve just barely made it out.

"Rachel?"

Steve patted the arm he still grasped and offered Danny a small smile. "She's fine, Danny. She's okay."

The corners of Danny's mouth curved up a moment in the barest of smiles before his eyes slipped shut. Steve sighed, content with the small moment he was able to get with his partner before he fell back into a deep sleep, and feeling more hopeful by the minute that they'd be through this ordeal soon.

* * *

Noises penetrated his consciousness and he groaned. Not ready to wake completely, he remained still and chose not to open his eyes just yet. He felt sore… no, worse than sore. He felt raw, if that was a word to describe the horrible feeling of having your body put through a wood chipper and then stomped on a few times. Though he could feel aches throughout his entire body, his chest hurt the most, and each breath brought another pang of pain.

Though he couldn't place the date and time, Danny knew he'd been here awhile… faint memories began surfacing of waking up before to see a worried Steve lurking over him. He also vaguely remembered waking another time to find Grace snuggled up against him, the scent of her strawberry shampoo tickling his nose and immediately pushing all of his worries and pains to the back of his mind.

Thoughts of his daughter had his mind wandering to Rachel, and his breath hitched. Where was Rachel? Was she okay? Memories of a car, blood and a cement room flashed in his mind, and he began to panic. He could feel his heart beginning to race and he felt as though his chest was on fire. His ragged breathing made him cough, and that only made things infinitely worse. Just as he began to think that the pain was too much and he began to slip back into unconsciousness, a voice penetrated through his fog of pain.

"Easy, Danny. Easy. You okay?"

Danny finally opened his eyes to see Steve standing above him, his face blurry beyond all the tears currently leaking out of Danny's eyes. Danny wanted to respond that no, he obviously was not okay, but he couldn't seem to get his voice to work.

"Calm down, buddy, okay? Slow, deep breaths. C'mon, in and out. In… and out. There you go."

Danny hated being coddled like this, but watching and hearing Steve's steady breathing allowed him to do the same, and a few minutes later he found that his own breathing had slowed and the pain in his chest had decreased exponentially. He nodded his thanks to his partner before closing his eyes, exhausted. It wasn't until he felt a pressure on his hand that Danny re-opened his eyes, fixing his partner with a more focused gaze.

"Are… you holding… my hand?" His voice was strained and weak, but Steve smiled at the sarcasm.

"Well, yeah, Danno. Seemed like you needed it."

Danny rolled his eyes, lacking the energy to do much more. Sleep was tugging him under again, but Steve wouldn't allow it to happen just yet as another squeeze of Danny's hand kept him grounded in the land of consciousness.

"How do you feel?"

Danny's brow furrowed in what he hoped was an '_are you serious?' _look before he stopped to actually consider the question. He felt like shit, if he was honest. But he also remembered clearly feeling much, much worse than this.

"M'ok," he whispered, and Steve nodded, apparently satisfied with that lame response.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Danny closed his eyes again as he recalled what had happened to him. He could sense that there were still pieces missing… being found was the biggest piece… but he remembered everything else. The car. The beatings. All of it.

"Yeah," he finally responded before pulling his eyes back open… something that was getting increasingly harder to do the longer he tried to stay awake. "Rachel?"

A look of concern flashed across Steve's face, and Danny had a small moment of panic. Steve quickly reassured him that she was okay, and the knot in Danny's chest eased slightly.

"Stan?"

"Recovering. He and Rachel are being released tomorrow."

Danny nodded. "The case?"

Steve smiled. "Well, the good news is, you've been cleared of any suspicion. You didn't kidnap Stan."

Danny snorted, which led to another coughing fit. After a few minutes, and a few ice chips to soothe his throat, Danny managed a small smile.

"Of course… I didn't. I wouldn't… leave… any forensic… evidence."

Steve shook his head with another smile. "Just don't worry about the case right now, okay? You just worry about getting yourself better."

"You… found us… how?" Danny closed his eyes and shook his head at himself for his apparent lack of ability to form a coherent sentence. Luckily Steve seemed to understand what he was asking.

"Well, it's a long story," he admitted.

"Not… goin'… anywhere…" Danny opened his eyes again and his eyes locked with Steve's. "What happened?"

"Okay, partner," Steve smiled and settled back into his chair. "The case took a lot of twists and turns after you were hit, but it really all started after we found Robbie Sundt's body in the trunk of his car…"

Danny's glassy eyes stayed fixated on him as he began the story of how the team tracked down and rescued him. If Danny was aware that the version was a bit… truncated… he never showed any sign.

* * *

_One more chapter to go!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your support with this story! I appreciate each and every review. Thank you to all the guests who also reviewed, who I couldn't respond to. :)**

* * *

Seven days.

It had been seven very long days since Danny had first woken up in the hospital. And he was counting down the hours until he would finally be released. Having been confined to a hospital room was taking its toll on him… and on those around him.

He knew he was cranky. He didn't try to hide his displeasure over… well, pretty much everything. He was still remarkably sore from the life-saving CPR that had been performed on him ten days ago. He'd never imagined having that as the worst of his problems. He'd already started respiratory therapy, and all of the deep breathing and practiced coughing wasn't doing much to improve the discomfort.

His team members had been constant companions during his stay. Chin had kept him up to date on the case when Steve was stubbornly insistent that Danny stay focused on healing. Kono was always a breath of fresh air, leaving behind small gifts in her wake to cheer him up. Grace visited every day after school, and would happily babble on about her day, her homework and her friends until Danny would tire, and he'd wake up to find that she'd slipped out quietly. Steve hovered… always hovered… being both supportive and annoying… which is exactly what Danny needed in this difficult week.

Unsurprisingly, Rachel and Stan had avoided him this past week, both having been discharged six days prior. However, Grace had let slip a few days before that Rachel was planning on coming to visit Danny after her next physical therapy appointment, which he discovered, via Steve, was scheduled for today.

He knew that he'd have to face her eventually, but he couldn't stop the nervous fidgeting as he waited for the inevitable. His nerves immediately ceased to be a problem when the door opened and Rachel came through. She was seated in a wheelchair; her left leg casted and elevated. At first Danny thought she was alone, but Stan followed her in, quietly shutting the door behind him. Danny arched an eyebrow at Rachel, who didn't say anything, before taking in the other man's appearance.

He looked terrible.

And Danny had thought he'd already seen him at his worst.

The bruises had faded, though there was an odd hue to Stan's face and hands that showed he was still not yet completely healed from his ordeal. He was stiff as he walked into the room and sat down next to Danny's bed, and Danny could practically feel the tension radiating off of him. After a few awkward moments of Stan avoiding eye contact, he finally cleared his throat.

"Danny… I asked Rachel if I could speak to you first. I felt as though we should talk about… well, about what happened. And how… sorry I am. For everything."

"You think?"

It came out a bit harsher than he wanted, but Danny found that he didn't care. He had been prepared (well, mostly prepared) to talk with Rachel, and was completely taken by surprise to see Stan here… in his room. And now that one angry slip came out of his mouth, he found that he couldn't turn it off. Everything came pouring out of him at once.

"But what do you want to talk about, Stan? Huh? What part are you sorry for, exactly? The affair that almost cost me my career? Or how Rachel was almost killed over your stupid life decision? Or are you sorry about the fact that I was hit by a freaking car and kidnapped by a raving lunatic bent on some delusional urge for revenge? Or are you sorry for what happened after all of that? For what _you_ did to me… is that what you're sorry for, Stan?"

The rant left him breathless, and though he'd never admit it to his therapist, or anyone for that matter, he tried to calm himself down using the techniques he'd been taught the past few days. After a few moments, it worked and he fixed Stan again with an angry glare.

Stan didn't look away.

"You hit me, Stan. Kicked me. Beat me! With your bare hands!" From the corner of his eye, Danny could see Rachel flinch, but he couldn't stop now. "Though some things are still fuzzy, that part I remember _clearly._"

"He forced me…"

"You could have refused!"

"Oh really?" For the first time, Stan raised his voice at Danny. "Just like you could have refused when you were forced to shoot me?"

If Danny was surprised at the outburst, he didn't show it.

"That was different."

"Different how?"

"Grace's life was on the line!" Danny fired back. "And you told me to do it! You stood there and gave me _permission_ to shoot you! I don't remember giving you permission to beat me into unconsciousness, Stanley."

"I know!" Stan stood and shouted. He stepped away from the chair and started pacing at the end of the bed, running shaking hands through his hair. After a few moments, he stopped and glanced at Rachel once before looking back again at Danny. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Danny repeated.

"Yes."

"Well sorry isn't enough!" He started coughing, and Stan instinctively moved toward Danny, but stopped midway… uncertain of what to do. The fit passed, but it still left Danny panting. "It's not enough," he repeated as a whisper.

"I know," he responded.

"What do you want from me, Stan? Forgiveness?"

Stan shook his head. "No. I don't expect you to forgive me, Danny. Just like I never forgave you for sleeping with Rachel." It was a dig, but Danny let it pass. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry… and thank you… for looking for me."

Danny didn't respond… was unsure how to respond… but was saved from having to say anything as Stan abruptly left, leaving Rachel behind in his wake.

"Well, that could have gone better," Rachel said quietly as she nudged the wheelchair closer to the end of Danny's bed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, babe, but that was as good as it was going to get," Danny huffed out as the anger was still making its way out of his system.

"He's just trying to make amends," she continued tentatively. "This hasn't been easy on any of us."

Danny certainly wasn't going to argue with her on that point. He just looked at her, and waited for her to say what she needed to say. He knew that she didn't come here just to check on him. Like Stan, she was itching to get something off her chest, and eventually she would stop beating around the bush and get to it. Rachel looked tired. But more than that, she looked sad. Worn down. Her body language screamed _comfort me!_, but recent events had finally opened Danny's eyes to the life he wanted to have. And remarkably, the only role that Rachel played in that life was as the mother of his child.

"What do you want, Rachel?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing." A small pause. "And to tell you that Stanley told me everything about his… his affair. We've talked it over, and I've decided to stay with him. For the time being. See if we can work it out."

Rachel looked expectantly over to Danny, but he made no move to respond. She must have been expecting some sort of reaction, however, as a disappointed look crossed her face for a moment before the calm, exhausted façade took its place.

"Okay."

Rachel looked shocked.

"Okay? That's all you have to say about the matter?"

"Yes, Rachel, that's all I have to say. What you do with your life is your decision. As long as this doesn't negatively impact Grace, then stay with Stanley. Or don't stay with him. I just really don't care anymore."

Danny nearly smiled at the revelation, because he wasn't saying these things to hurt Rachel. He was saying them because they were true. The kiss they had shared while at the gala had sparked something within Danny… he felt a door close during that intimate exchange, and he realized something that he should have realized ages before…

He was finally over Rachel.

"Look, Rach, I'm really tired. Do you mind…?"

The dismissal was crystal clear, and Rachel awkwardly wheeled herself toward the open door. She was nearly out before Danny called her back.

"Are you going to take Grace away from me again?"

"What?"

"Before the case," Danny tapered off, not sure of how much Rachel was aware of Danny's investigation into Stan. Figuring it didn't much matter anymore, he continued. "I noticed that Stan's company is looking to expand operations. Austin… New Orleans… Las Vegas…"

"That's ridiculous, Daniel. We are not leaving Hawaii."

Danny nodded, taking the answer at face value. But the uncertainty still gnawed at him.

"Maybe you just don't know about it."

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "Stanley would have told me."

"Would he, Rachel? _Really_? After everything we just went through… After finding out that Stan had an affair… You can sit there and tell me that Stan wouldn't keep something from you?"

Rachel remained stubbornly silent, and Danny sighed.

"We've been living in an illusion of truth for too long, Rachel. It's time to wake up."

"You're right," Rachel said quietly before she set her chin and pierced him with a fierce gaze. "You're right, Daniel, you do look awfully tired. Have a good evening."

Danny shook his head as she finally exited the room. He rubbed his temples, and worked on his breathing exercises for a few minutes, but nothing seemed to completely calm him. If there was one thing Rachel knew how to do well, it was rattle his cage, and the uncertainty of what could happen next made him nervous.

Sighing again, he glanced at the clock. Knowing this would be a good time, he reached over and grabbed his cell, which Steve had happily returned to him the previous day. Hitting the speed dial, he couldn't help but smile when it was answered after one ring.

"Danny?"

His smile grew at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, Gabby, it's me…"

* * *

"You'll have to come back for one final chest radiograph in a week to confirm that there are no further intrathoracic abnormalities. I see you already have your therapy appointments set up. That's good. Keep practicing your breathing techniques, especially if you find that you are suffering from any shortness of breath."

The discharge nurse continued spouting off the final information Danny would need before he could be officially released from the hospital, and Steve smiled at his partner's increased agitation. His desire to leave had been increased exponentially over the past few days, and only Gabby's presence seemed to calm his agitated nerves.

Steve had been thrilled to see how close the two of them had gotten over this entire ordeal. While other couples would have split, theirs only tightened. Steve smiled at Gabby's loyalty to Danny during his disappearance and subsequent hospital stay. He knew it had been difficult for Danny to explain what had happened to him, but Gabby's fierce love for him stayed strong… and that, in turn, made Danny strong.

"…ready for you to pick up at the pharmacy. Do you have any question, Detective?"

"No," Danny replied with a forced smile. He looked at Steve, who was standing at the ready with a wheelchair, with a look of exasperation. "I can walk out with my own two feet, Steven."

"SOP, Danny. Ready to get out of here?"

Danny gave him a look that clearly said yes, and he settled himself into the wheelchair. The nurse handed over his small duffel bag with his personal effects, and she exited the room, wishing him a speedy recovery.

"Let's go," Danny said, practically bouncing in his seat.

"One more thing, Danny."

"Steve, so help me, if you do not push this wheelchair out that door in the next few seconds… What is this?" Danny asked as a small box was dropped into his lap. Danny held the small package in his hands warily, the hasty wrapping job indicative that it was from his partner.

"It's a present."

"Why?"

"Just open it, Danno."

Danny ripped the paper and opened the box, smirking as he pulled out a porcelain mug. He smirked. "You found my mug."

"No, your old mug is currently locked up in the evidence locker at HPD. I got you a new one."

Danny shook his head slightly, but smiled up at Steve in appreciation. Steve gave Danny's shoulder a small squeeze before pushing the wheelchair toward the elevator. Once inside, Steve hit the button for the lobby and turned back to Danny.

"There's still one thing about this case that I don't get," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as the elevator doors slid shut behind him.

"What's that, Steven?"

"Where did you learn how to hack?"

**END.**


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